Never an Equal Footing
by Ciule
Summary: Secretive Severus and curious Hermione try to make a new life at post-war Hogwarts. Staff life should be peaceful, but Death Eaters are running rampant throughout Britain, uniting under their new leader... AU postwar, slow burn, explicit, Snamione.
1. Chapter 1

**The Daily Prophet, 23 August 1999:**

 _Ministry sources secretly confirms that 112 witches and wizards have died under mysterious circumstances since the War ended last year. The unusual, high number is attributed by our sources to the recent Death Eater resurgence, but the official Ministry spokeswitch Marigold Lebennon says it's all speculations:_

 _\- The fact that some people like to dress up in cloaks and masks to scare others, doesn't mean there has been real, Death Eater sightings. Granted, the deaths are very suspicious, but out intelligence says that Death Eaters on the loose are few. They can't possibly be behind all this, and the Auror Office says the deaths are due to people being disturbed and mentally ill from the aftereffects of the war, claims the spokeswitch with conviction._

* * *

He was bored out of his mind. _Eighteen, long years of staff meetings was simply eighteen years too many._ _Blah, blah_ , the curriculum changing, _blah, blah_ , encourage the students to do their best, _blah, blah_ , the importance of all staff to enforce rules along the same guidelines… _He just couldn't care less._

Severus had always thought that he wanted peace and quiet, an uneventful life, but he had been wrong. _Oh, so very wrong._ He'd never dreamed that he'd miss the adrenaline rush of threats to his life and deceiving a very accomplished Legilimens, but he did. He even missed being Headmaster, for all the horrors and tedious details his tenure had entailed. Something _had_ to happen, or he'd go stir-crazy. _Cauldron-potty_. **_Batwing-mad_**.

Hiding behind the strands of his black hair, he wondered if Minerva would spot him napping. _Probably,_ _she would_ , he decided, and forced his eyes to stay open, groaning quietly to himself. The Head's office was much too hot in the summer heat, and he wondered why the castle would be so petty as to deny Minerva the use of its perfect Cooling Charm. _Behave!_ he snapped silently at the castle, and he felt it grudgingly give in, and a bit of fresh air entered the room. Minerva gave him a quick, grateful look. He rather thought the castle might be right in its displeasure, because who would ever think that tartan curtains would fit the Head's office?

 _Oh no, the newest addition to staff, Septima's apprentice, had obviously not gotten over her incessant need to ask questions._ There she was, Hermione Granger, her hands waving eagerly in the air, wild hair bristling in a ponytail, and those big, brown, innocent eyes bright and shining. Just like when she pestered him in class, still virtually bouncing on her chair. The rest of staff fucking _smiled_ at her, indulgently, like the teacher's pet she still was. He sighed deeply, sinking back into his chair, while drumming his fingers impatiently on the table. Thank the gods for small mercies, at least the chairs were still wooden, not … stuffed and _tartan._

"Please, Headmistress," the girl said, "you said for all of us to follow the same guidelines for discipline. Can you explain that in a little more detail? I'm not sure how this should work, as I experienced quite different approaches from the staff in my years as a student."

He snorted to himself, thinking of Dumbledore's mad indulgence with the rule-breaking Golden Trio, but the meeting went downhill from there. It was supposed to last an hour, but ended up close to two hours, thanks to Miss Granger and her questions. Thank Merlin, when the students arrived in a week, prolonging a staff meeting like that would be impossible, but still…

He decided to stop her from blathering in future staff meetings. _Maybe even Miss Granger could see reason._ On his way out, he stalked behind Miss Granger down the stairs.

Grinning a little to himself, he noticed her increasing her speed. _She was nervous, that's what she was._ It made him feel good, that he'd still have that kind of effect on her, no matter her fame and achievements.

As he cornered her in the hallway, she stopped short, her hand uncertainly clenching and unclenching her wand. Deliberately, he stepped too close to her, using his height to intimidate her by looming over her. She was still on the small side, he noted, barely reaching his shoulder, and his proximity forced her to crane her neck to look up at him.

He arched an eyebrow to her lazily. "About to hex someone, Miss Granger? If I must remind you, it would be bad form to hex a fellow staff member in the corridors. Setting a bad example for the students, you see."

She reddened, looking away from him. _Oh yes, the little Gryffindor would be embarrassed by him calling her out for being afraid. Lovely._ But she gathered her courage, and said politely: "Professor Snape, how may I help you?"

"You can and you will help me and the rest of the faculty," he said bluntly, eyes locked on her face. _She had become pretty,_ he noted, _somehow along the way she had grown into her face_. "Do not ask questions at the next staff meeting. No one feel any need to prolong those meetings, and you, with your questioning…"

"Oh," she said blushing. "Everything is so new and exciting. I just got carried away."

"I'm sure you'll find most of the faculty in possession of our wits, so we _might_ have noticed," he said drily. She was fiddling with her robes, still not looking at him. From his vantage point of looking down at her, he realized he could see her cleavage. It looked like she had nice, firm tits, just big enough to be a handful for him… Shaking himself, he realized that he had just _ogled_ Miss Granger, of all people. Shocked and appalled at his own behaviour, he shuddered, but his cock twitched slightly, stretching in his pants. _Gods, she was barely older than the students, and she was **Granger** , for Merlin's sake! _

Stepping back hastily, he gave her his best sneer. "Make sure to rein yourself in at the next staff meeting, Miss Granger," he said as he swept past her.

Xxxx

"I'm so happy you came to your senses," Professor Vector told her with a pleased smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Her white hair was gathered in a loose bun, but wisps of hair kept escaping into her face. The small, spry witch was pouring her a cup of tea in her office, the smell of the Darjeeling First Flush wafting up to her nose as the tea splashed into the wide cup. "I always thought you were cut out for an Arithmancer, and I was sorely disappointed when you applied for the Ministry last year." Giving Hermione the teacup with her age-spotted hand, she leaned back into her chair with a sigh.

Hermione gave her a smile, saying: "Yet, here I am. The Ministry wasn't quite what I expected, and I wanted to learn more. I'm so thankful that you accepted me as your Apprentice." She sat in a comfortable arm chair in Professor Vector's light and airy study, high up in the western tower. The afternoon sun lit up the room, making it bright, warm and welcoming.

"Oh, I'd be a fool not to," Professor Vector scoffed. "But please, do call me Septima. You're part of the staff now, so let's dispense of the formalities."

Hermione beamed at her, and sipped her tea. _The Ministry had been exceedingly boring: Full of stuffy, self-important little prats, intrigues and power plays in every corner, people scrambling for influence and promotions. She had started out as a clerk in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures right after she had finished her N.E.W.T.s – she had not taken the offer of a honorary graduation, but actually sat her exams in August, only a few months after the war. Now, after one year in the service of the Ministry, she was back at Hogwarts as an apprentice. And, she felt like she had come home._

"As you know," Septima said, "the requirements for your studying will be varied. You will, of course, spend most of your time studying theory, but there will also be practical applications of your calculations, as well as your project for your master thesis. You will also undergo training as a teacher. Here, at Hogwarts, we feel that you should get a more varied experience in teaching, as there are so few students in my Arithmancy classes. Therefore, you'll be required to undergo practical training in teaching all subjects at Hogwarts."

Hermione blanched. "You mean that _all_ teachers will supervise my practical training?"

"Yes, close to everyone," Septima said calmly. "Don't worry, Hermione, they're all excited that you're here, and you'll feel like part of the staff in no time. You can expect to be on first name basis with everyone within a week."

"Even Professor Snape?" Hermione asked skeptically. _It was hard enough to contemplate calling the Headmistress Minerva, but it was nigh impossible to think about Snape as "Severus"._ She shivered, remembering the way he had _glared_ at her in the corridor, towering over her as six feet of intimidating, dark menace.

Septima laughed, eyes glittering, as she said: "Maybe not Severus."

Xxxx

Sighing contentedly, she looked around her private quarters. The rooms were rather small, but she had a bedroom with the standard Hogwarts four-poster bed and a dresser, and the bathroom had a surprisingly big shower. The sitting room was on the small side. The sofa was rather worn, and there was only room for a stuffed, gobelin armchair and a small table aside. The fireplace was large, though, making Floo travel as comfortable as it could be. She was happy that, whoever it was – be it the Headmistress, House-elves or someone else – thoughtfully had given her rooms with a Gryffindor colour scheme. The bed hangings were red with gold tassels, as were the rug in front of the fireplace and the curtains in front of the large window in the sitting room.

In her opinion, the best feature of the set of rooms was the deep bookcases from floor to roof. Even _her_ book collection wasn't filling up more than half of the space, but she smiled to herself: _That_ would only be temporary. Inside, she felt a tingling joy by the thought of buying, reading and caring for so many more books in the years to come. Her wish list comprised over 300 books already, and she had calculated that her rather meager Apprentice payment would suffice for buying approximately ten tomes a month, if she saved a little for future needs in her Gringott's account and cut down on clothes and chocolate. _Yes, those bookcases would be filled by the time she had finished her Mastery._

Xxxx

Like Septima said, during the next days the rest of the staff invited her to call them by their first names. McGonagall was now Minerva, Flitwick was Filius, Sprout became Pomona and Hooch Rolanda. Snape was still Professor Snape, though, but Hermione had never expected _that_ to change.

She had, of course already a good start on her reading, with materials both from Septima's suggestions and her own, heavily researched reading list. But her most important task in those first days was a visit to Hagrid. His hut had burned down during the war, but he had rebuilt it, larger and more comfortable than before. He had added a bedroom, a spacious bathroom and a separate kitchen, and Hagrid was obviously proud as he showed her around. When they had settled in front of the fire in his kitchen, Hermione working on perfecting her trick of slowly Vanishing his rock cakes bit by bit, like she was actually chewing the damned things, he said: "It's unbelievable, isn't it, tha' yeh've grown to be a Hogwarts apprentice, yeh're practically a teacher yerself!"

She grinned at him, saying with all the pride she felt in her heart: "I know! I can't believe it myself. And I so look forward to being here for the next, five years."

Hagrid almost teared up by that, sniffling into his great, checkered handkerchief: "I'm so proud of yeh, Hermione!" Lowering his voice, he said with a serious expression: "Watch over yerself, will yeh? There are people up there," he nodded towards the castle, "who doesn' know righ' from wrong, or, they don' care. Take care, and don' let 'em pull yer into any games."

She nodded, eyes serious, but wondering what on earth Hagrid was referring to.

Xxxx

It was strange, eating in the Great Hall without the students. Dust motes danced in the rays of the morning sun, and all sound were magnified, almost echoing in the emptiness and the quiet of the large hall. It was breakfast time on the August the 30th, and in two days time, the students would fill the halls, classrooms and corridors once more.

Inside Hogwarts, Hermione felt curiously safe, more so than she had since the war ended. Then, everyone had been so deliriously happy, optimistic and believing that finally, everything would be set right. And, of course, it wasn't. Fear of the rather large body of violent, raging Death Eaters hell bent on revenging their Lord was looming large in the public. Brutal, violent attacks on Muggles, Muggleborns and those who had openly defied Voldemort had happened almost as often as during the war. There were a lot of people with harrowing experiences in the year or so after Voldemort's fall, that is, those who survived the violence and torture, the fear and the humiliations they had been put through.

After the post owl had dropped off the Prophet, she grimaced, seeing the front page. _Another vicious attack, eradicating a wizarding farm growing potion ingredients. Three farmhands and a family of four dead._ Every day, there where news or follow-up stories on the seemingly non-stop flood of tragedies, and even more stories harried the new Minister of Magic Saul Croaker, pushing for more decisive measures from the Ministry. Croaker had been an Unspeakable, and shortly before the election, he had revealed himself as the Head of the Department of Mysteries. In these articles, Croaker was shadowed as always by an increasingly frustrated Kingsley Shacklebolt, now Head of the Auror Office after his short stint as interim Minister.

Whatever the Ministry did to stop the terror, it wasn't enough by far, and Shacklebolt was obviously not happy with the current regime. Hermione had heard rumours in the Ministry saying Kingsley was angry to have lost the election, and that he wanted to run for Minister again as soon as the opportunity arose. _No wonder,_ she thought, _considering the mess Croaker had made of everything. Kingsley would have been a far better choice in her opinion. He was very competent, and a good man at heart._

"Hermione, tonight is a very important night," the Headmistress told her. She lifted her eyes from the grim headlines, and saw that Minerva's eyes were twinkling, and that she was clearly hiding a grin.

"And why is that?" she replied, smiling politely back.

"It's the annual staff party, so we can drown our sorrows and celebrate the loss of our freedom for the next year," Minerva said, chuckling. "You'll do well not to plan to much for tomorrow, as the party usually is quite… rowdy."

Hermione felt her eyebrows climb. _So, the teachers were drinking and partying hard before the students arrived? Well, she'd never expected that! Her plan for the night had been some serious reading time in the library, but obviously, she couldn't refuse this. After all, they were to be her colleagues, and she needed to get to know the faculty better._

Xxxx

"Have a Fireshisky, Herimino!" Flitwick shouted, as she entered the staffroom. The small Charms professor was staggering, and brandished a goblet to her, slopping the smoking liquid on the floor. Hermione had taken care to magically iron her blue, modestly cut dressrobe and taming her hair, but taking a look around, she saw that the effort had been completely wasted. The faculty were all casually dressed, some already looking a little inebriated, but nothing like Filius Flitwick. Hermione doubtfully supposed it was due to his diminutive size.

"Over here, Hermione!", Septima called out. Her Mistress was sitting in a sofa, chatting with Hooch, Sprout, Sinistra and Trelawney.

The normally cozy staff room, with its grey sofas, deep leather chairs, small tables and the ever-present teakettle was transformed into a nightclub. Gone were the chairs, the sofas were moved along the walls, making a dance floor in the middle, and in the grand fireplace the multi-coloured fire was pumping and twisting in time with the fairly loud music, making the room flash with alternating red, blue, green, purple and yellow lights. The small kitchenette was Transfigured into a bar, with three House-elves serving as bartenders, sharply dressed in black, silk handkerchiefs, embroidered with the Hogwarts crest.

The Headmistress was standing in front of the fireplace, strands of hair escaping her normally severe bun, wildly gesticulating in an animated discussion with Snape and Hagrid. Her giant friend waved her a greeting, but frowned intently at Minerva, drumming his fingers at his large goblet, obviously not agreeing with the Headmistress. As Hermione crossed the floor, Snape shot her a long look, before he turned back to Minerva, shaking his head as well.

Flitwick was now dancing slowly by himself in the middle of the floor, while the new Transfiguration teacher, Marius Gewerryn was entrenched by Ancient Runes Professor Batsheda Babbling in the darkest corner of the dancefloor, swaying softly to the music. Junior Dark arts and Potion teachers Francis Heron and Cato Byror were loitering at bar, chatting quietly as they watched their colleagues.

Trying not to goggle, Hermione hurried to Septima, sitting down in the sofa.

"Oi, Winky! Bring Hermione prosecco!", her mistress shouted over the din.

The House-elf scurried over to her quickly, giving her a glass with the sparkling, light golden wine, bobbing slightly at Hermione.

 _Clink!_ Septima leaned forward, clinking her glass with Hermione, and said a little slurredly: " _Now_ you are faculty, Hermione. This – _this_ , is the initiation feast."

Trelawney and Hooch giggled, challenging her to a "Bottoms up!"

Hermione downed the wine, feeling slightly woozy, and to her astonishment, her glass was again filled up to the brim.

"I hear your fan mail is a bit troubling," Pomona Sprout said with a mischievous smile.

Hermione felt herself blush, and said: "I hope it doesn't make too much of a bother."

"No, no," Septima said, "the House-elves are quite well-versed in things like that. After all, they've dealt with Severus' mail for a year now."

"Does he get the same as me?", Hermione said, dumbfounded.

"I should hope not!" Sybil Trelawney hooted with laughter, her large glasses askew. "My dear girl, Severus gets at least five death threats a week, ten proposals and offers for sex, fifteen heartbreaking letters from families missing their loved ones, asking for any information he might have, and twenty Howlers varying in content from all of the above."

Hermione blinked. The death threats she could understand, and the family letters too, but who in their right mind wrote to Severus Snape offering sex? _Those people had to have a death wish._

"Luckily my mail isn't that bad," she said. "Mostly it's normal fan mail, with the odd proposals and death threats mingled in. And at the most, I think I get twenty letters a week or so." Not being able to help herself, she lowered her voice: "Are people really proposing to Snape?"

Aurora Sinistra sniggered, downing her glass again – motioning for Hermione to drink up as well. "You'd be surprised. He became quite popular overnight, and in the beginning, he really took advantage of it too."

Hermione felt her eyebrows climb up into her hair, and the older witches snorted with laughter at her expression. She tried to cover her confusion by draining her glass again, but it refilled promptly.

"Really," Rolanda Hooch said, yellow eyes twinkling at her, "You look like you fell down from a tree. The faculty _are_ people too. That means, we laugh, quarrel, gossip and fuck. Just wait, you'll see." Looking at the other professors, she winked. "But Severus, he really went for it when he got the chance, didn't he?"

"Yes, yes," the other witches nodded, grinning widely at her. Hermione felt herself blush. _These people had been her teachers. Their sex life was not something she was comfortable thinking about. And Snape shagging lots of witches – it was more than unbelievable, and frankly a very disturbing image._

Hooch continued: "For the first few months after the war, he had a new witch - or more – every weekend. But then he obviously tired of it sometime during the autumn." Squinting a little angrily towards Snape, she said: "And I lost my bet with Minerva. I put fifty Galleons on him becoming a player for real, and she was adamant he'd quit before Christmas." Hooch stuck her tongue out at Snape, and in that exact moment, he turned around, looking at them.

The silence was stuffy, short and unbearable, before the older witches burst out in raucous laughter. Blanching, Hermione saw Snape stiffen, turning around to Minerva again, but quite obviously uncomfortable with the barrage of drunken laughter directed at him.

"But you, Hermione, wasn't you supposed to marry the youngest Weasley?" Aurora Sinistra asked her with a shrewd look.

"Errr, well, it didn't work out," she mumbled. _The story of her and Ron was still painful._ At first, everything had been fine, and then everyday life and the quarrels started. What to do with their lives, how many children and when, why they just couldn't live next door to his mother, why Hermione had to spend so much of her time working, who would start the cleaning spells in the afternoon and get dinner ready – and then after the fiftieth angry row, he had used his status as a war hero to get laid. Often, publicly and with model witches.

Of course, by the time, it had all been over in everything but the name. _Still, it hurt a lot._ It wasn't like _she_ had model wizards lining up at her door. Why Ron would be so popular was beyond her, and she felt stupid, unattractive, and outed for all of Wizarding Britain like the relationship loser she really was. Now, she had no other friends than Harry, Luna and Neville. Even Harry and her were drifting apart, because every single Weasley gave her the cold shoulder after her breakup with Ron, which made meeting Harry without Ginny infrequent. Work was all she had, but no one was even remotely interested in what she could contribute to life excepting her work performance, studies, spells and strategies.

So, she clung to what gave her value to the world: Her brilliant mind, her knowledge and her willingness to fight for a cause, but alone, at night, her life felt empty, devoid of human relationships. Her flat in London had felt almost like a mausoleum _,_ not like a home. Hermione swallowed, forcing down the now familiar feeling of _failure_ and deep loneliness _._ Instead she gave her former Professors a brittle smile, but still, they peered curiously at her.

"Really?" Trelawney said interestedly. "We all thought the two of you were a sure thing. Remind me to do you a reading, Hermione, we'll see what the future has in store for you."

"No thanks," she replied quickly, "I like my surprises, even when they're kind of bad." She got up, a little unsteadily, walking to the bar to get a pint, instead of the bubbly, too sweet prosecco the elder witches seemed to prefer.

The two Junior Professors Heron and Byror eyed her with interest as she asked the House-elf Tommen to draw her a porter. Looking at them, she gave them a small smile, and soon they had dragged her into a conversation. The two of them were teaching classes first through fourth years in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, while Snape did OWL and NEWTH classes in both subjects.

"I'm excited about the new term," Cato Byror told her, "as I have all my lesson plans tested and evaluated. That bastard," he shot a hard glance at Snape, who was still listening to Hagrid and Minerva quarreling, "wasn't willing to share any of his, last year. It takes time to find out what will work, but now I think I've got it down pat."

"He wasn't willing to share with me, either," said Francis Heron darkly. "But luckily, there have been so many Defense teachers over the years, so I had loads of earlier class planning from other teachers to reference. This is my second year at Hogwarts, by the way."

The two men were handsome, in a rugged way, Byror blonde, and Heron dark haired. Quickly, she realized that both of them were trying to impress her. _It must be because I'm the only female in the faculty under the age of fifty,_ she thought. They told her about their past work, their families, their academic successes, and she nodded politely and smiled automatically, concentrating mostly on drinking her pint, while the two of them were slowly crowding in on her, trapping her against the bar.

"You're so young, Hermione, and so _talented_ , with all that lovely vivaciousness of youth," Francis Heron purred, his chocolate brown eyes moving suggestively down her body. "It almost makes _me_ feel mature, experienced and seasoned. You know, I'd love to give you some advice, if you feel like it. Not many are made a Hogwarts professor at the age of 44. I can give you a few, helpful tips."

"Absolutely," his colleague whispered into her ear. "Your beauty and brain makes for a quite … heady… combination. Your will go far, and by the time you've reached _my_ age, at 49, you'll be so accomplished, so well-versed. I would only be happy to show you a little more of the world to get you started." His dirty-blonde hair fell into his eyes, and those baby blue eyes were consuming her face with a rather frightful intensity.

Hermione almost rolled her eyes, because she wasn't about to be tackled by the two of them. After all, she had faced much more challenging situations than this. To be chatted up by two of her colleagues, both old enough to be her father was simply preposterous. Hermione knew, she would have no problem turning them down, but she also wanted to keep a civil working relationship with them. In all probability, she'd see these two wizards every day for the next five years. Being who she was, she wanted to be _liked, accepted_ and _respected_ among her colleagues, and that translated into turning these wizards down in a polite way.

She finished her pint, licking the foam from her lips, and giggled inwardly at their vacuous expression as their eyes locked on her lips. But really, did they think that _she'd_ be impressed by their experience? The Defense teacher Heron had been abroad in Paris during the war, while Byror had sat it all out comfortably on his manor, pretending to be growing Potion ingredients. _They_ hadn't been in the Order, _they_ hadn't made an effort to overcome Voldemort, _they_ hadn't been fighting, like she had, like Minerva, like Snape...

Fighting an incredulous grin at the obvious, but very sick and twisted solution to the problem they posed, she deliberately gave her two colleagues a wide-eyed, innocent look as she slipped past them.

"Why, thank you! I'm sure it will be lovely to get to know you," she said. "I need to speak to Professor Snape. Isn't it wonderful to have such a respected war hero among the faculty? I admire him _so_ much."

Seeing their flabbergasted expression, she almost gave herself away by laughing out loud. Fighting her laugh, she went over to Minerva and the said professor. _War hero, my arse! Those two idiots didn't stop to think that she was one too, actually one of the most awarded war heroes in magical Britain._

"Hello," she said a little nervously, interrupting the Headmistress and Hogwarts' most feared professor. Minerva was dressed in crumpled, maroon robes, her hat slightly askew on her head, holding a non-descript bottle of Firewhisky in her hand. Snape stood tall and straight, as usual crisply buttoned up in his black frock coat, but had obviously forgone his teaching robes for the occasion. He gave her a long stare, and she almost froze – _gods, what if he finds out what I told those two idiots? He'll kill me!_

"There you are, Hermione!" Minerva beamed. "Try my Firewhisky. My brother made this, and I think it's excellent. Severus maintains that Ogden's better, but I don't think a mass-produced brew can compete with a true, home-brewed, quality whisky."

Obediently, she tasted the whisky, taking a big gulp, immediately coughing violently. _It was vile, tasting like what she imagined petrol would be like if she ever was stupid enough to drink it._ She shivered, not being able to cover up her involuntary shudder of disgust.

Snape was crossing his arms over his broad chest, and he smiled faintly, triumphantly, at her predicament. "It tastes like Madam Majory's window cleaning potion", he stated with determination. "Minerva, this is my final word. Your brother can't seriously entertain the notion of brewing this whisky for sale. You can foist it on anyone, and they'll tell you it is horrible. Even Hagrid couldn't stomach it, and he told you so in no uncertain terms."

The Headmistress huffed, and stalked up to another group, holding out her bottle to Babbling and Gewerryn, interrupting their dance, and forcing them to take a sip. Hermione made a pleading look at Tommen the House-elf, and he immediately came running with another pint of porter.

"Acquired a taste for darkness, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, nodding at her choice of drink, black eyes glinting wickedly.

"In terms of beer, yes," she said, taking a sip of her dark, delicious porter, foam thick and almost creamy. Tommen sure knew how to draw a proper porter. _Sweet Morgana, to make this believable to Heron and Byror, I have to keep up a conversation with Snape. Why did Minerva have to leave? This would have been so much easier if she stuck around._ Helplessly, she peered at him over her pint.

"Well, Miss Granger, what brings you here? I don't imagine it's the lure of my friendly conversation." His voice was still the same silken, deep and measured cadence as before, and she still felt those shivers of something akin to fear as he spoke, just like it had been in his classroom.

"I had to get rid of Heron and Byror," she mumbled, opting for the truth, worried that he'd spot a lie. He had always seemed like he had a sixth sense for detecting lies and omissions during her schooling, and she supposed, that was one of the traits that made him into such a fearsome teacher. "They seem to think I'll be suitably impressed by their careers. Also, because they believe themselves to be Merlin's gift to womanhood."

Professor Snape came close to choking on his drink. Sputtering a little, he replied: "I see. You don't agree, I suppose, since you are here?"

"Obviously not," she said testily, staring at them. "I don't want to estrange myself from my colleagues during the first week, but that … _bragging_ … when all they did was to wait out the war from their own sofas, while people were running, starving, fighting and hurting."

He gave her an odd look, before he formally said: "I remember you doing all those things, Miss Granger."

She huffed. "And so did you, too, but I don't see you telling witches how wonderful it will be for them when you share your immense, fantastic knowledge that made you into a Hogwarts teacher at the age of 44."

Snape arched an eyebrow, and for a moment, she could almost swear his mouth twitched. "That would be rather silly of me," he drawled, "as I'm thirty-nine, and I have taught here since 1981."

Blinking, she said: "But you're a Potions Master? How did you finish your degree so quickly?" She could feel envy churning inside – _she wanted to be brilliant, a fast learner, the best – but to finish a five year Mastery in what had to be two or three years? It would be almost impossible._

He shrugged. "An impatient, Dark Lord can be quite the motivation for working hard. He expected me to finish early. After all, he paid for my degree."

"Oh," she said a little stupidly, "I had no idea." Dipping deep into her pint, she noticed she started to feel dizzy. _How much had she been drinking? Here she was, having an actual conversation with Professor Snape. Who would have thought the man was able to talk almost like a normal person?_ Taking another sip, she stared a little surprised at her glass. Hadn't she just ordered a new pint? _This one was almost empty_.

Giving Snape a good once-over, she realized he wasn't that old. Logically, she had known his age, but somehow in her mind, his age had seemed so much more advanced when he was her teacher. His hair was still lanky, but without any grey, his skin still sallow and his face lined, but his body seemed to be in a good shape, straight and muscular. Then she continued impulsively: "Somehow, I always thought you were older. But you're still the youngest professor at Hogwarts, then. It's surprising, you always seemed so much older than your actual age." _Odd, she'd be the youngest member of the faculty, and the next in line was her snarky, mean-spirited ex-teacher._

He gazed at Heron and Byror, and said softly to himself: "I've never felt young." Then his sharp eyes focused on her, and he grimaced. "But you, Miss Granger, are obviously still very young. Didn't your parents tell you it is rude to comment on people's appearances?"

She reddened. "I didn't mean it like that, I just…"

"Whatever you thought, Miss Granger, you should, by now, be able to consider _how_ your opinions might be understood. And most definitively, you should be able to curb your need for expressing anything that's on your mind, however insignificant and trite your observations are." And by that, he swept off.

Xxxx

 _Merlin! As if the staff parties weren't awful enough to begin with, now he had that little Gryffindor chit to contend with! And she had taken special care to use the occasion to tell him he looked old._ Staring at himself in his bathroom mirror, he had to concede the chit was right. His face was lined, there was a deep furrow between his eyes, no doubt self-imposed by his habit of scowling, his hair was getting thinner, and it was _still_ greasy. _She was right._ _He did look old, not to mention the scars on his back and neck._ Sighing heavily to himself, he divested his clothing and stepped into the shower. As usual, it took too much time for the hot water to run through the milelong pipes of the castle, and he growled his displeasure at the castle, ordering it to speed up the process. _In fact, he could do better than that,_ he thought, and barked an order for the castle to always have hot water ready whenever he turned on the taps, never mind what that would do to other people's bathrooms.

As the hot water gushed forth, the castle eager to please him as always, he lathered himself with soap. His cock hardened by his touch, and for a moment, he wished he was still in denial of the motivations of his female fans. About one half of them wanted to be fucked brutally by a former Death Eater, toeing the line of dangerous evil. The other half thought he was a romantic, tender-hearted hero, and those witches wanted to show him love, saving him from a loveless life. _It was sad, pitiable and disgusting, and after he understood how they perceived him, he wanted none of it._ Much better to visit the brothels of Knockturn Alley. There, he at least knew there would be no questions of being anyone but himself. But it was too late to do so tonight.

Muttering angrily, he grasped his cock in his right hand, stroking it firmly, squeezing the head on each stroke. Oddly enough, he envisioned Granger, instead of Lily. In his mind, he pushed her into the wall of a corridor, wrenching her robes open, fondling those decent-sized tits he had spotted a few days earlier. _Granger had indeed grown up, she was all woman now, and her sweet face was…_

 _No!_ _That was wrong, on so many levels._ He wrenched his mind off her, going back to his favorite memory, at that one time in the past when they were fifteen, when Lily and he had broken open his father's liquor cabinet, and the evening had ended gloriously in his bed, where Lily had given him head…

But unbidden, Granger popped up in his head again. _She would be on her knees before him, biting her bottom lip before she wet her lips with her tongue, taking him into her mouth, licking, sucking at him… Her robes would be unbuttoned, her luscious tits bare to the cold air in the dungeon, with goosebumps raising her skin and hardening her nipples._

Groaning, he quickened his pace with his hand, imagining her mouth work greedily on him, while she moaned his name. _He would put his fist into that ridiculous amount of light brown hair, pushing her head onto his cock._ Feeling his balls tighten, fire building in his cock, he spasmed. With a deep grunt, he shot his load, hips thrusting frantic in the air, his semen splashing at the wall in the shower, and then he slid down, sitting on the slated floor, letting the hot water pound over his head, remorse and anger building up inside him for doing something as stupid as letting himself fantasize about Hermione _fucking_ Granger. His fantasies were either Lily, or they were faceless. _Definitively **not** Granger_!

* * *

 **A/N:** Please let me know if you hated it or enjoyed it, hit the review button or send me a pm. Thanks for reading!

What do you think? Is Hermione a lamb ready for slaughter, and Severus the big, bad wolf? Or is the oh-so-hot, big bat in for a surprise? Next chapter will be up in a week. Per now, twelve chapters are prewritten, and I expect the entire story to be around 16-18 chapters.

Hagrid's speech is difficult to write. I've tried to be faithful to the amazing wordcount found on Furiosity's livejournal, but any mistakes are my own.


	2. Targeted Approach

_**A/N:** A million thanks to those who reviewed, favorited and followed. I hope you will enjoy the new chapter, with more interaction between the irate Professor and our curious witch. _

* * *

**_The Daily Prophet, 31 August:_**

 _– A true, Death Eater regrouping is the silliest suggestion so far this year, Minister spokeswitch Marigold Lebennon says. – The Auror Office outright denies any such supposedly Death Eater threats to the public._

She had been mortified. Without intent, she had insulted Snape by telling him he looked old at the staff party, and now, she really wanted to make amends. He might still be a surly git, but she was determined to show him that _she_ was friendly inclined. _She'd be damned if she alienated her colleagues at the first staff party_. _They were supposed to like her, but in Snape's case, she'd settle for something that wasn't outright dislike._ So, feeling refreshed after a shower and two large doses of Hangover potion, she sat down beside him at breakfast, trying to drag him into a conversation.

She tried to talk about the unusual, warm weather affecting the growth of potion ingredients, the sudden dearth of moonstone, attributed to a major Chinese project on Love Potions, rumoured to fight the lack of witches born to the Magical Republic of China. Snape barely recognized her being there, his answers monosyllabic, not meeting her eyes. _He looked rather tired_ , she thought, _but it was difficult to tell from his usual grumpiness. And he smelled rather nice, but how did he manage to shower without washing his hair? It was lanky as always, hanging down to obscure his face._

It was a relief when the owls fluttered in. And there, on the front page of her copy of the Daily Prophet, there was a story on the increasing risk of an Azkaban break-out, due to Death Eaters still on the run.

"Is this likely?" she asked, tapping a finger on his own newspaper, pleased to finally have a real question to ask him. _Something he would know more about than anyone else, something that would force him to talk to her. Something **she** badly needed to know more about. _

He squinted at the paper, and grunted something non-committedly.

"Well," she repeated, "is this likely to happen?"

He emitted a deep sigh, and then he said: "Miss Granger, you never give up, do you? Yes, of course it's bloody likely."

"Why is that, sir? I'm curious, why are they so difficult to catch? And why would anyone think the Death Eaters could break Azkaban's wards?"

He pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes, before turning to her, saying caustically: "Miss Granger, I'm _not_ a morning person. I would like to ask you to respect that, if you can find time for some consideration of other people in your busy, little mind. I don't want conversations at breakfast, I want my tea, my toast, my paper and _quiet_."

Stung, she stared at him as he turned away from her, and then she blurted out: "I'd like to discuss this with you, sir. I'll try again at lunch, hoping to see you in a better mood."

Quickly, he spun around to look at her, his face incredulous. " _No,_ Miss Granger." His voice was icy.

"Dinner then," she challenged, feeling irked by his rudeness.

"No, Miss Granger! This is not up for discussion. I'll take my meals undisturbed."

"We'll set up an appointment, then." Her eyes were now slits – _damn if she wouldn't win this one. I'll make him talk to me!_ "Will four o'clock be amiable to you? In your office?"

Xxxx

She was staring at him, expecting an answer. He became lost, looking at her mouth, that beautiful pout, those soft, kissable, _fuckable_ lips. He felt blood rush to his groin as he thought about his fantasy from last night, and without thinking, his own mouth said: "Yes, Miss Granger."

 _What? Did he really accept that? Fantasizing about Granger must have turned his brains to mush._ Scowling, he groused at her: "Don't be late. And please, for once, do be concise when you ask your questions. You may not be my student anymore, but I won't tolerate your usual ramblings."

She looked insulted, but nodded curtly. "Very well, sir, I'll see you at four o'clock."

Sighing, Severus lifted his teacup, taking a big gulp of his strong, hot Earl Grey. To his left, Minerva was coughing quietly. _Hang on… She wasn't coughing!_ He risked a glance at the Headmistress, and there she was, laughing silently, shoulders shaking, as she looked at him. He snorted, giving her his coldest glare, but Minerva only laughed harder. Sourly, he silently told the castle to turn on the Heating Charm full tilt for the Head's quarters, starting at midnight sharp.

Xxxx

Hermione took care to be on time, punctual as usual. He slammed the door open, in his usual threatening fashion, black eyes glowering down at her. She couldn't help feel intimidated, even though she rather thought she shouldn't. _After all, she was a grown witch, a war hero, not a quavering student. She should be able to handle Severus Snape._

The dungeon was dark and freezing, even though it was a very warm summer day outside. She rubbed her arms, regretting her sleeveless top. His office was, as always, dark and forbidding. Disgusting things crammed into jars, murky vials and bottles glowing with eerily, sinister lights and boxes filled with powdered ingredients were spread out on a large table in the middle of the room.

"Enter, Miss Granger," he said in a silky rumble, beckoning her inside. "You will forgive me if I go through my stores while you talk. There's precious little time before the students once again are on my doorstep, ready to raid, mess up, and _steal_ from my stores, or what say _you_ , Miss Granger?"

Her eyes flitted, and an uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach. _He wasn't about to bring up her stealing from his stores, was he? She thought that was long forgotten._

"You're right, Professor," she said too brightly, still set on being friendly. "Please do what you need to do, and if I can help, I'll be happy too."

He shot her an irritated look, and his lips thinned. "Very well. You can organize the shelves, starting with A to G on the top shelves, while I register and mark the rest," he almost huffed.

She almost smiled. _Thank Morgana, he didn't know that organizing things was something she really enjoyed._ Happily, she helped him to sort the ingredients, stretching up to reach the upper shelves to place the vials, jars and bottles in an alphabetical order. Out of the corner of her eye, she almost thought he was watching her. _Why would he do that? It was almost like he was furtively ogling her chest and her arse. Merlin! It was bad enough to know the man had been sleeping around, but to have him looking at herself like that… Well, it was safe to say, she had never considered him as a **man** before, either. Snape had been firmly placed in that sexless category of people named "teachers". Though, after the revelations of last night at the staff party – well, she supposed, that sexless teacher-category didn't really exist anywhere, except in her mind. _

Banishing those confusing thoughts, she shook her head, instead focusing on her reason for talking to Snape in the first place. "As you know, Professor," she started confidently, "I'm considered one of the top targets for the remaining Death Eaters at large, possibly ranking among the top ten targets. Therefore, my interest in the rumored plans for an Azkaban break-out are quite personal in nature."

"And you do not believe that the safest place in wizarding Britain, Hogwarts, will be able to protect you after such an event?" he drawled, not looking at her as he marked vials and bottles sitting on his desk. "Fear not, Minerva does her best to keep the school safe. She will spare no effort to protect defenseless students and fragile people such as _you_."

"Hogwarts have been breached before," she said stiffly, not raising to his bait. _To tell her – HER – that she was fragile? The nerve of the man!_

He snorted. "I wouldn't say that. You do realize I raised the wards before the Battle? Even the Dark Lord would have been working long and very hard indeed to force his way into Hogwarts."

"It doesn't matter, because I'm not always in the castle. There are Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, holidays and visits to friends, as well as my own home," she said. "I'm just as vulnerable outside of Hogwarts as during the war. All it takes are a few Death Eaters and a surprise attack. Then I'm tortured, kept as a prisoner or dead – or after a while, all of the above. That's why I wondered if you would have any ideas as to what they are planning for the break-out. I'd rather have a few Death Eaters on the loose, than the whole, angry lot of them."

"Don't you trust the Auror Office? Don't you trust your friends, _Potter_ and young _Weasley_ , to catch up with the Death Eaters' plans?" He was sneering, goading her again.

Her silence was almost deafening for a while, and the she sighed, looking straight at him. "No, I've been a year in the Ministry. It's supremely ineffective. As for Harry and Ron, well, let's just say, problem solving is kind of _my_ area of expertise, not theirs. Besides, they're only Aurors in training, they really don't have all that much influence on the investigations."

He grunted, seemingly displeased with her acquiescence. "What makes you think I haven't offered up all I know to the _grown-up_ Aurors?"

At that she grinned. "Because I know the Ministry. They're too stupid to ask."

He lifted his eyebrows at that, and said with a faint, but reluctant smile: "Then we are in agreement."

The silence evolved into a more comfortable, companionable atmosphere as they worked. She continued with sorting those jars and vials he had marked, and he registered the amount of every ingredient in his ledger as he worked his way through the stores.

After a while, he said, not looking at her: "It will be a surprise raid, there aren't that many of them to go for a full blown attack. They will cause a distraction, then free as many as they can, having spare wands for the prisoners to join in as they are freed. As to the nature of the distraction, I can only speculate. It will, in all probability, be something spectacular to draw out the guardians of Azkaban. Given the location, the distraction will either be something airborne or something from the sea. Maybe they'll take a leaf out of _your_ book, marshaling a dragon for the attack."

She pondered that for a moment, finding the suggestions plausible. The she asked: "Do you know how many Death Eaters there are on the loose?"

He shrugged. "More than the Ministry are letting the public know. Quite a few went on the run after the Final Battle, and only those who were hurt were apprehended. After that, they've only managed to capture a few, as you probably know. I'd say a few hundred, give or take, most of them lower ranks minions and associates."

She nodded. The capture of Rodolphus Lestrange had been covered widely in the Prophet, grinning Aurors showing off the scowling, profusely bleeding Death Eater, pushing him into trial only hours after the capture. After that, only a few, lesser known ones had been taken, but all had been publicly displayed. _To boost public morale,_ she knew, _reassuring the magical community that the Ministry had control. Though everyone knew the situation was far from safe._

Herself, she had been assigned a body guard during her year in the Ministry. Stationed at Hogwarts, the Auror Office had deemed that she was safe enough without an Auror to watch over her at all times. _But she wasn't convinced. There was no such thing as a safe place._

"I've told them all the names I can think of, but they're not acting on it, as far as I can tell." His voice was a little bitter, and he looked angry.

Her instincts told her that this was something more than the usual dislike of the Ministry. _There's something more going on. Why doesn't the Ministry take advantage of his knowledge? He was posing as Voldemort's right hand, for crying out loud. He knows a lot, and would be a valuable asset in catching them. It's almost like … the Ministry doesn't trust him?_

Shaking her head, she rid herself of that silly notion. _After all, Severus Snape had sacrificed more than anyone for the Order. The Ministry knew that. He was acknowledged as the war hero that he rightfully was. Maybe this was only the usual incompetence of those who were in charge._

"You don't believe me?" he said angrily, interpreting her shaking her head in the worst, possible way.

"No," she gasped, "I was just thinking…"

But he overrode her, gesticulating angrily, black eyes furiously locked on her face, raising himself halfway up from his chair: "Because YOU are in danger because of their lack of attention. The Chosen One and Weasley – well, they'd want to kill them, but YOU symbolize everything the Dark Lord was opposing. As an intelligent, powerful Muggle born witch instrumental in bringing down the Dark Lord, you are the perfect target for them. Beware, Miss Granger, because you don't want to experience what the Death Eaters do to their enemies. Especially enemy witches."

He fell silent, black eyes bottling up the emotions once again, and looked away as he sat down.

Hermione shivered, goosebumps riddling her flesh in the cold dungeon. _She could only suspect what the Death Eaters did to captured witches. This man knew. He'd probably … even though she didn't want to think like that about her teacher, the faithful Order spy, a man she trusted … he'd have witnessed, even perpetrated such actions himself to stay in his role._ Swallowing, she averted her eyes from him.

He sighed. "Miss Granger, I'm sorry for my outburst, but you have to be careful. I think the threat to you is more dire than the Ministry will acknowledge. They believe Potter is still the most important target for the Death Eaters, but knowing them as well as I do…" a grimace flew over his face, "… it has to be you."

Xxxx

Thank Merlin she left after that, obviously shaken by his words. She had bitten her lip, looking scared and nervous, but her keen intelligence and her grasp of facts had been clear, even faced with a threat like that. Her warm, brown eyes had been frightened, but she was nowhere near panicky. She had nodded, and thanked him – _thanked HIM, of all people –_ for his advice, while rubbing her arms to stay warm. Smiling a little to himself, he relished the way her nipples had reacted to the cold, standing out like hard, little pebbles underneath her tight, sleeveless top. Silently, he told the castle to turn up the temperature to his normal living environment, and it obeyed promptly.

 _There were so many things he wasn't able to tell her_ , nor would he ever want to. He had read her thoughts easily, and saw the degree of mixed uneasiness and curiosity about his Death Eater activities, but also the way she _wanted_ to trust him.

No one knew the extent of what he had done in the past, not the Ministry, not the Wizengamot, not the Order. Not even Dumbledore had known, but that was more due to the fact that the old fool had preferred to be kept in the dark, not sullying himself with what his spy had to endure. Severus snorted derisively.

And now, there was the unspoken agreement of the Death Eaters: _Never to mention what happened at meetings and revels, never to mention who had been responsible for those actions known to the public_. Those who had gone free through their trials would lose goodwill if their atrocities were revealed, while those who were in Azkaban would get their sentences prolonged if the public found out the extent of their depravities. _He might be a spy, but he certainly wasn't a snitch._ Even though everyone that were apprehended by the Aurors had good reason to spill the beans on him, they knew that he held a wealth of information that would cling them up guilty to the point of a Dementor's Kiss if he were to retaliate. So, consequently, everyone kept silent out of fear. _He was safe, for now._

Sighing to himself, he looked around in the dungeon. Thanks to Miss Granger, he was done organizing and registering his stores. Everything was orderly, everything in place, ready for those little rascals to create chaos in a matter of days.

Then he realized, Granger had forgotten to ask for a crucial piece of information, namely when the attack possibly could take place. He wasn't sure, but it would definitively, with Voldemort's penchant for symbolism, be on a date that meant something to the Dark Lord, like Halloween or New Year's Eve. _As always, the Death Eaters would be faithful to their Lord's wishes._


	3. Life in the Spotlight

**A/N:** _Thanks for following, favoriting and reviewing! In earlier chapters, Severus has definitively noticed Hermione. This time, our heroine gets an eyeful of Snape… Please tell me what you think!_

* * *

 ** _The Daily Prophet, 1 September:_**

 _– The Hogwarts train will be heavily guarded by Aurors, Rita Skeeter writes. The Ministry denies this measure is due to current rumours of rogue Death Eaters possibly attacking the train, and spokeswitch Marigold Lebennon says to our reporter: – We know parents are concerned for the safety of their children after the war. The Auror guard is merely an outstretched hand from the Ministry to meet those concerns. The Minister feels that people will be reassured by knowing the Ministry spares no effort to protect the students, even though there are no reason at all to be worried. We are happy to reveal that Auror-in-training, Harry Potter, will be a part of the Auror guard for the Hogwarts train, Lebennon adds with a smile._

* * *

The students were off the train, on the grounds and in the castle, crowding the halls and corridors with shouts, laughter, hexes and reunions of friends and foes alike, like a veritable sea of grey. Their school robes were all squeaky clean, well-fitting and _smelled_ new, and Hermione smiled to herself, knowing that it wouldn't be so in a few weeks. All too soon, the robes would become too short for growing kids, often stained and spotted, and with frayed hems and cuffs. Then the girls would look up spells to repair and lengthen their robes, and the boys would shrug until a diligent prefect would take them to task.

The welcoming feast was just as sumptuous as ever, and she thought she could just _die_ for Hogwarts' roast chicken, with fresh peas and beans, roast potatoes with rosemary and buttery sauce. The smell was delicious, wafting over the Great Hall, and she almost couldn't wait to tuck in. The food at Hogwarts' feasts were, in her opinion, simply _magic._

The first years were simultaneously starry-eyed and scared. Hermione thought they all looked so surprisingly _small_ and _young_ – really, her friends and herself were never that tiny, were they? Ruefully, she realized that this was a part of becoming an adult – _she_ was getting older, and consequently, the students seemed younger and more childish.

The Headmistress had introduced Hermione as the new Arithmancy apprentice, and she felt herself wince at the admiring gasps and whispers from the students.

"It's **her**!"

"Hermione Granger, the war heroine, the genius!"

"The brains of the Golden Trio! She brought down Voldemort with Potter, she's Harry Potter's best friend!

"She dated Ronald Weasley! They broke up! Wow, she's so hot, I wonder if she'd be interested in dating here at Hogwarts, she's not that much older than us seventh years…!"

"I'm going to enroll in Arithmancy, just to see her!"

She felt flushed and embarrassed, and she shared a pained look with Harry, sitting at the table set out for the Auror guards beneath the Head table. There had only been time for a quick hug, and there would be virtually no time to talk after the banquet. Still, it felt good to see him, though she wondered what he thought of being used in an obvious media spin story, like the Ministry had done in the _Prophet_ this morning. The ovations for the Auror guards had been thunderous in the Hall, and she noted the slightly jealous glances from the Defense teacher Francis Heron. He didn't garner half the attention she or the Auror guard – or rather, Harry in particular – got.

Most teachers earned a smattering of applause, excepting McGonagall, who received an equal thunderous cheer as the Aurors, and Professor Snape, who were met by the same amount of whispering, pointing, sighs and lowkey exclamations as Hermione herself – though no applause for him. While _she_ struggled to not letting it all affect her and not letting her insecurity show, Snape stared coolly out on the mass of students, just like the students were no more worthy of his attention than the buzzing of a Glumbumble.

Xxxx

Severus had steeled himself for the automatic flinch that always went through him at the sight of Lily's eyes in Potter's face, but this time, it hadn't materialized. _He was not bothered at all by seeing Harry Potter._ The realization was of epic proportions to him, and it nearly bowled him over, leaving him silent and stunned at the dinner table. He guessed that the welcome feast was probably delicious as always, but he chewed mechanically. For all he could tell, it could have been pieces of cardboard in his mouth.

He was dimly aware of most of Minerva's introductions, but he noticed that the students still seemed to have that unhealthy fascination with himself, and now Granger too. Severus smirked slightly to himself, seeing the awestruck expression on the faces of the older boys. _Oh, Granger would have a veritable queue of student admirers, he was sure._

Again, his thought turned back to the fact that seeing Potter did not cause him pain. _He had known for a long time that he was not in love with Lily. Well, he still loved her, but not like **that** anymore. _That automatic flinch of pain had still been with him for a long time. The fact that it was gone, signaled that he truly had moved on. Severus swallowed, taking a big gulp of his goblet with the delicious Elf-made red wine from Lyonesse. The wine should, he knew from experience, taste of blackcurrant, with a note of stables and autumn leaves, closing with a long, tangy finish, but to his palate right now, it was nothing but stale water. He knew he was drinking too fast in his distress. _What would losing his sense of **loss** mean, the very loss that had shaped his life? _

Xxxx

To herself, Hermione could admit that she was secretly happy that her time with the students would be limited. After all, she had her own studies to tend to. She'd only see them at meals, and when she had training as a teacher. Though, she had full privileges as a teacher for deducting points and assigning detentions. So far, her studies had mostly been reading theory with the odd task of predictions set by Professor Vector, and in her readings, she had pursued different directions for her master thesis. But now, she was waiting for the first class to arrive for her practical training, together with Septima Vector.

"In this lesson, you'll only observe. In two weeks, you'll lead this class for another two weeks, and then we evaluate. For tomorrow, I'd like to see your predictions for how your training as an Arithmancy teacher will fare. I will be especially interested in which factors you can determine," Professor Vector said, before unlocking the doors with a flick of her wand.

The students filed in, and Hermione swallowed, as she saw the curious gazes of the fifth-year Arithmancy class, a class much larger than any Arithmancy class Hermione had ever heard about. _Oh no, this is because of me,_ she thought with a sinking feeling. _These students aren't interested in the subject at all. It will be hell to teach them anything._

Xxxx

Later that evening, she sought out Professor Snape again. He slammed his door open, looking angrily at her, before he barked: "What is it now, Miss Granger?!"

She stared at him. _No wonder he was angry._ He had obviously been in the shower when she knocked, as his black hair was still dripping, plastered to his head making it look longer than usual, and he only wore his black trousers. He had a white towel over his shoulders, but she was staring at his torso. _Who knew Professor Snape had such a lean, muscled frame?_ He was very pale, with a smattering of black chest hair, tapering down to a line pointing down into his trousers, accentuating his hard, pectoral muscles. His shoulders were wide, and his arms looked stronger than she would have thought. A few scars riddled his shoulders and chest, but in a way, she found that it merely accentuated his sculpted body. _Why did the man hide under so much clothing? His upper body was positively gorgeous,_ she thought, the notion immediately followed by a blush. _Sweet Morgana, what did I just think?_

He crossed his arms across his broad chest, giving her a faint smile, showing off his crooked, yellow teeth. _She sincerely hoped that he, with his Legilimency expertise, hadn't listened in on her thoughts, but from his smug expression, she wasn't all that sure._ Her blush deepened.

"Sorry, Professor, I forgot to ask you an important question the other night. I was wondering…"

He took a quick look at both ends of the corridor, before saying: "Enter, Miss Granger. Such things are best discussed in private."

Moving quickly through his office, he motioned to a half open door behind his desk. Light spilled out from the door, making a rectangular shape of light on the office floor. _The door led to_ _his private quarters,_ she realized. Suddenly, she felt all giggly. _Here she was, following a half-naked Professor Snape into his private rooms. If anyone had suggested anything like that to her two weeks ago, she'd have laughed herself silly, though it sounded infinitively more dirty than it was._

She entered, looking around with curiosity. It was more of a bachelor's den than she had expected, and it looked every inch the dungeon that it was. The floor was a deep grey, tiled stone, and one single, large window emitted a dark, greenish light, but keeping the domed, stone ceiling still dark and shadowy. She approved of the bookshelves from floor to roof, all around the room, but the furniture was old, dented, with one large, well-used black, leather wing chair, a small table, and a too-small, leather sofa – the kind you can't stretch out on, in front of the roaring fireplace. Plus, the sofa was covered in a thick layer of dust. _Not that many visitors, then,_ she thought.

He motioned to the sofa, and said imperiously: "Sit." She peered dubiously at dust covering the leather. As he disappeared off into another room, _his bedroom_ , she presumed, she decided to swish her wand, Vanishing the dust, before sitting down.

Snape came back while buttoning up a black, soft-looking shirt. She waited for all those buttons to be done, and then she asked: "When do you think the Azkaban attack would take place?"

Frowning at her, like she had been rude, forgetting to observe some sort of obscure, wizarding niceties, he pointed to a cupboard. "Firewhisky, Miss Granger? The proper kind, I might add, not that vile petrol that Minerva offers."

"Yes, please," she said, taking the glass he Summoned to her, feeling rankled that _Snape,_ of all people, had silently accused her of _rudeness. This coming from the Prince of Snark himself!_ Irritated, she took much larger gulp than she normally would have done, and as a result she coughed violently.

He looked faintly amused, saying: "It is an acquired taste, Miss Granger. After all, you're still very _young_."

Giving him her best glare, she downed the glass. Her eyes watered, and steam came out of her ears. She didn't dare to look at him, afraid that he might be laughing at her.

He settled into his big chair, a considerably fuller glass than her own in his hands.

"I would like to know, have you any inkling as to when?"

This time, he answered straight away, rubbing the hair at the back of his neck with the towel: "I have several theories. Most of them will be wrong, but I'm convinced it will be on a date that was somewhat important to the Dark Lord. He was a stickler for symbolism."

"I see," she said slowly. "And which dates could that be?"

He shrugged, Banishing the towel, sinking back comfortably in his chair, his hair seeming impossibly shiny and _clean_. She thought: _It made him look better, younger, somehow even nice._

"His birthday, maybe. Or one of his victories, or losses. Depends on the mind of the new leader of the Death Eaters, I suppose."

"You think there's really a new leader?" she said, breathlessly.

"Positive," he said assuredly. "The Dark Lord ran the Death Eaters with quite a heavy hand. The organization wouldn't function without a leader. They aren't used to think for themselves."

Brows furrowing, she asked: "But who is it, this new leader?"

Looking pensively into the fireplace, he replied: "It can't be just anyone, I imagine. But it has to be someone who can think outside the box, and who can manage to unite them. Someone powerful, for sure."

Her mind was working furiously. _Who could it be? One of the Malfoy men? Dolohov? Yaxley? Rabastan Lestrange? Someone else still on the loose?_ Chewing on her bottom lip, she suddenly noted that his eyes were locked on her mouth, his expression curiously fascinated. She blushed a little, saying: "It's a bad habit, I know. I can't seem to shake it."

He arched his eyebrow, giving her a sardonic smile. "If you had nothing else on your mind, I have things to attend to, miss Granger. I trust you can see yourself out?"

The dismissal was obvious, and she rose quickly to take her leave. As she turned to close the door, her eyes lingered for a moment on the man in the chair. _Seeing him with clean hair and without his shirt had somehow shifted her perception of him. He was definitively not old. At least not **too** old – but her mind refused to follow that line of thinking any further. But more important, was he to be trusted? _

Xxxx

 _They had sent her to spy on him. He was absolutely sure._ Fury competed with hurt inside him, partly because he, once again, wasn't trusted, and partly because he knew the Ministry, for once, had made the perfect choice. It would be hard to resist imparting his knowledge to her: she was intelligent, curious, inquisitive and engaging – and she had grown up into a very sexy witch. Her big brown eyes, those perky breasts, and the way she had a habit of worrying her lip made blood rush to his groin just by thinking about her. Though, he vowed to himself he'd fight that purely physical and highly inappropriate attraction, and stay in control as always.

 _Fuck Kingsley Shacklebolt_ , he thought angrily. Not only had the man not trusted him when Albus was still alive, but after the war, when his name was cleared by sodding Harry _Hero-That-Lived_ Potter, Kingsley and his boss Gawain Robards, the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had refused to let him help with hunting down the remaining Death Eaters. They had even turned down offers for information, and Severus could just not see why Aurors would prefer to be in the dark, when knowledge was so readily available. _Now, when everything had blown up in their faces, then Kingsley and Robards chose to send little Miss Granger to lure the information out of him! Better late than never,_ Severus supposed with a dark scowl.

But he'd like to see how far they'd make poor Miss Granger go. Would she come on to him, or would she try for a more innocent approach? _And whenever had they taught her to Occlude her mission like a pro?_ If it wasn't so glaringly obvious that her attention to him had to be a Ministry set-up, he would have thought her to have honest intentions in seeking him out, based on what he could read from her mind. He chuckled a little, remembering her embarrassment after she literally _ogled_ his chest. _Well, he'd please them, letting her into his confidence, showing them that Severus Snape had nothing to hide._

He smiled to himself. _Actually, he enjoyed talking to this grown-up version of Miss Granger. She was witty, a bit more wary than she had been when she was younger, and still razor-sharp smart. This could be mutually beneficial for them._ She could make her reports for the Ministry, doing a good job spying and get her pat on the back, and he would have intelligent conversation with a pretty witch for a while, until she was done spying. _Plus, it gave the added benefit of something remotely interesting happening, apart from the mess he had managed to stir up himself. His life had been in shambles since he was born, and a new development of action wouldn't ruin a perfectly good waste of a lifetime._

 _After all, keeping your enemies close was a sound strategy_. Maybe the failure to do so was the real reason behind the fall of the Dark Lord, he mused, because strong paranoia and overwhelming arrogance was not the best foundation for good planning. He was sure about one thing, though, the chit was serious in her intention to achieve her Arithmancy mastery. She would be at Hogwarts for the next five years. _And, he found that he was strangely satisfied with the prospects of that fact._

Xxxx

The post owls were arriving for the Great Hall, but oddly enough, the castle wasn't letting them in through the roof top windows. The result was a fierce storm of pecking from scores of angry owls, and much pointing and whispering from the students. The Headmistress rose, face stern, but Hermione caught a quick, pleading look from Minerva, directed at Professor Snape, and he rolled his eyes in response. And suddenly, the windows were open again, and the owls soared in with the mail. _Strange,_ she thought, but then she couldn't help her smiling in delight – it was the first owl delivery of the year with a full, student body in session, and she was after all her years at Hogwarts still _awestruck_ by the beauty of it: Hundreds of wings beating through the air, like a hailstorm of brown, tawny and white feathers, yellow eyes descending rapidly on the tables, beaks clicking with expectations of treats or knuts.

After the owls had left, she rather thought she found breakfast at the High table even odder than before the students returned, wondering when she would get used to all the _staring_ and the ever-present whispering. She sincerely hoped that the students would get used to seeing her fairly soon.

The mail, predictably, led to students laughing and whooping with joy over gifts from home, while some were groaning, but there was also a Ravenclaw girl breaking out in great, wracking sobs. _Oh. She got bad news, then._ Hermione felt a shot of icy worry going through her – _was it another attack, or something more innocuous?_ – and Filius Flitwick hurried off from the Head table to take care of the girl.

Professor Vector, _Septima,_ she reminded herself, leaned over to Hermione, saying: "Don't worry about the students staring. After a month or two you'll be like the wall to them. At least that's what happened to Severus. They were staring, whispering and pointing for two months, and then it died down to what you see today."

She glanced over at Professor Snape, sitting at her left, and then at the students. _No, they were still looking at him, but only occasionally. Mostly girls,_ she noted with a bit of surprise.

"You'll get used to it," he drawled, not looking at her as he buttered his toast. "But doublecheck everything you eat or drink. They are quite adept at infiltrating the kitchens, and I must say, the marks I have had to set on love potions for the last two years are remarkably higher than before the war ended."

She blinked, staring with suspicion at her cup of tea and her toast.

"How do you check for love potions?" she demanded, her voice a little shrill. "Most of them are both taste- and odourless!" _Merlin, it would be embarrassing to fall prey to a love potion from a student!_ She felt panic rising, thinking of all the possible ways she'd make a fool of herself in such a situation.

Professor Snape gave her a small smirk, and pointed to his prominent nose. "Experience, Miss Granger, and extraordinary olfactory sensors."

Her face fell in disappointment. But she was never one for giving up and despairing, so she said bravely: "Would you please teach me how to recognize those potions?"

He looked at her then, studying _her_ nose with a considering glance. Then he shook his head. "I'm not sure you can do it, Miss Granger, because it really does depend on your sense of smell. If it is keen enough, you can do it. If not, teaching you will not be possible, I'm afraid."

"Oh," she said, feeling that surge of panic rise again.

"However," he continued, "I can help you to check your meals at the table when we're both present. It is important to prevent undignified situations in front of the students. They need to respect the faculty."

Beaming at him, she said: "Why, thank you, sir! I appreciate that." _Strange_ , she thought _, he seemed to gain a slight colour on his face as he took in her smile_. _Maybe he really was nice beneath his snark? Or_ , she reconsidered, seeing the calculating look his expression morphed into, _maybe not._

Xxxx

She was in a stall in the bathroom outside the Arithmancy classroom, when she heard a group of tittering girls enter.

"Merlin, he's _that_ hot. Not good-looking, not really, but he makes me want to…" a girl said, finishing with a giggle, as the other girls around them laughed.

"I can see what you mean," another voice said, "and rumour has it that he was really out there, seducing a lot of witches last year. My aunt told me that her friend had been to bed with him, and it was totally hot."

"Wondering if he'd ever consider a student?", the first one said wistfully.

"Probably not," a third one said. "He'd be sacked, you know. You need to wait until you finish school, at least."

"Or maybe a love potion," the second girl said dreamily.

The first girl snorted. "Don't you remember what happened when Triala Deveran tried to slip him a love potion last year? He found out, of course, being a Potion master and all, and she got detention with Filch for half a year for attacking a teacher, and she was very nearly expelled. The only thing saving her, was that she's a Gryffindor, and McGonagall doesn't expel students from her own House. A love potion seems like a very bad idea to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes, drumming her fingers on her thighs. _Those silly girls were talking about Snape, for Merlin's sake! They had to be insane, or maybe they actually preferred someone mean._ She rather hoped it was only a stupid school girl crush, not a general, long lasting, unhealthy infatuation with bad boys.

"Well," the second girl said defiantly, "I've heard that Troy Mercan plans to slip Granger a love potion during the weekend. He's so in love with her, and _she_ is not a Potioneer. She won't notice before it fades."

Hermione gasped indignantly, but her gasp drowned in the shriek from the two other girls.

"What does he think she'll do when it wears off? He'll be expelled, for sure!"

"Nah, he seems convinced that once she's tried him in bed, she'll stick to him," the second girl said with laughter in her voice. The two other girls burst out laughing too, clearly not believing their school mate's sexual prowess.

She was seething. _Trying to poison her with a potion – this boy was in for it, whoever he was! She'd not ingest anything that wasn't triple checked, even if she had to make her food from scratch!_ Then she felt a great rush of relief, remembering that Snape had promised to check her food. And from what those girls had just said, it seemed like he had been successful in discovering love potions earlier. She smiled a little, feeling a little sorry for Snape, who had to put up with all those lovesick girls. Hermione supposed _,_ Snape would never stoop to seducing students. _At least, he had never done so before_. Her brow furrowed slightly in a brief worry.

Xxxx

On Friday night, on her way to the staff room for a quiet drink and some company, she came over Professor Snape and a crying, sixth year girl. He was on patrol duty, and at the moment she passed by, his expression became very relieved. She almost raised her eyebrows in surprise, having never seen the stern Potions Master showing a so very human emotion as _relief_.

"Miss Granger," he exclaimed. "Would you please escort Miss Derenivan to the Hospital wing?"

The girl was sobbing, looking up to Professor Snape with teary eyes, whispering: "Please, I'm sorry, sir, don't leave me, I'll be alright."

Hermione noted that he looked uncomfortable, and brusquely, he foisted the girl on her by a snort: "You'll go with Miss Granger, she'll help you."

And by that, he hurried off down the corridor, walking so fast that the scones on the wall fluttered by his passage.

Sighing, she put her arm around the shoulder of the girl, asking in her kindest voice: "What's the matter, Miss Derenivan? Are you hurt?"

"No," the girl sobbed, "I just love him so much, and he doesn't want me!"

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. _Great, a lovesick sixteen year old girl. Just what she wanted on her Friday night. No wonder Snape was in a hurry to get rid of her._

She patted the girl on the back, saying: "Did you quarrel with your boyfriend, or is he in the dark about your feelings?"

The girl only cried harder. "He just told me, it'll never be us. I love him so much, it's Professor Snape, you see."

Flabbergasted, Hermione tried to hide her shock. "Oh well, I suppose he's right. The age difference is rather large, not to mention it would be _illegal_. Come on, now, I'll take you to the Infirmary, Madam Pomfrey will help you calm down."

They walked slowly towards the moving staircases, and the girl hiccupped, sniffling softly. Hermione held her arm, thinking that this definitively had to be one of the downsides of being a teacher. _Stupid kids pining for their teachers._ She sighed to herself.

 _Though,_ she had to admit _, those girls had a point._ He wasn't good looking, but his body certainly was, and he had that thrilling, dark mystique going for him, so being attracted to him was only natural. _What – no? What was she thinking? She was NOT attracted to Snape! That was an absurd idea, if she ever heard one._

Xxxx

Later, when she entered the staff room, she couldn't find Snape. She wanted to tell him that the girl would be fine, and that she understood that it was very uncomfortable to be the object of desire of a student. But he wasn't there.

As she poured herself a cup of strong, black tea, Francis Heron sidled up to her. "Why are you looking for _Snape_? You should be looking for a proper wizard, one who can match your fire and passion … for doing great things," Francis said, blue eyes boring into her, slinging his arm casually around her shoulder, hugging her too tight into his chest.

Irritated, she moved away, shrugging out of his embrace. "I escorted a student to the Infirmary, one that he had apprehended on patrol. I only wanted to tell him she's in good care."

Heron snorted, again moving closer, this time leaning into her. "One of his little admirers, I suppose. They're all over the place."

"Yes, well, they might be," she said. "Still, I'd like to tell him she's fine."

"He's out – again," Heron said curtly. "Chumming with old pals, I expect, he does that quite regularly on the weekends. Wondering what he's up to, as his old pals are ... rather unsavoury."

She frowned at him. _Did Heron think Snape had taken up with the former Death Eaters? That was a serious accusation._ Finding her voice, she answered: "Interesting theory, though I find it unlikely." She threw him a dirty look, and went over to sit with Septima and Professor Sinistra. _She'd rather take Snape's snark any day than the overblown self-esteem of the Junior Defense teacher._

Personally, she was more worried about Snape not being there to check her food and drinks, than his eventual socializing with former Death Eaters. He might not be entirely of the Light, but he couldn't be _that_ depraved. Frowning, she reconsidered: _Or could he? The story of his life told her he was a consummate actor._ Shaking her head, she disbanded those silly notions. To her, the imminent problem of finding food and drinks free from love potions for the weekend was more important. _She would have to be extremely careful, not ingesting anything not made by herself while he was away._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Is Severus really so bored and disgruntled that he might have joined the former Death Eaters - again? Please let me know how you feel about that... :-)_


	4. Teaching a Lesson

**A/N** : Thanks for following, favoriting and reviewing! In this chapter you get more of Hermione's backstory, and her very first teaching experiences. And the build-up into some of the story's darker themes is starting…

Please let me know what you think!

* * *

 ** _The Daily Prophet, 19 September:_**

 _– No comment, says Minister of Magic, Saul Croaker. – I do not speculate in rumours or nightmares, the Auror Office deal with facts, as do the rest of the Ministry._

 _– The Ministry's refusal to comment on the Death Eater resurgence is getting ridiculous, says Wizengamot member, the Honorary Marian Prewett. – I myself saw a group of people dressed in black cloaks and Death Eater masks Apparate together, just at the mouth of Knockturn Alley yesterday. They are getting bolder, and one can only worry that the Ministry is getting dumber._

* * *

"There you are!" Francis Heron smiled widely at her, his brown eyes lightening up at the sight of her entering the staff room. "I wanted to tell you about the time I vanquished a vicious Norwegian Ridgeback in Spain. The poor thing was sweating through its mouth, and was quite desperate for a cooler climate…"

Groaning inwardly, she gave him an insincere smile, closing off her nostrils to the cloying smell of his aftershave. _The man was handsome enough and most of the staff seemed to like him, but why did he have to be such an idiot when dealing with her? She did not want to hear any more stories about his exploits. Good grief, he was approaching Lockhart in his storytelling, and that was saying something._

As she excused herself, he made sad puppy eyes at her, an exaggerated, downcast expression on his face. Then he moved closer, far too close for comfort, murmuring softly: "I would love to go on a date with you, Hermione. Just the two of us, in Hogsmeade."

Staring up at the man, she spat out: "No!" Biting her tongue to moderate her response, she added: "I don't think that would be a good idea, you know, as we work together." Quickly whirling away from him, she caught what had to be an amused expression on Snape's face, concealed as a signature smirk, as he sat reading _Potions Monthly_ by the fireplace. Furiously, she spun out of the staffroom – never mind that she had just arrived – and backtracked her steps to her chambers.

 _Not only had the daft Defense teacher made another, unwelcome pass at her, it had driven her from what could have been a cozy evening in the staffroom too. And Snape, that bastard, had the audacity to laugh at her predicament!_

Now, she had to face another evening on her own, with the bitter realization that she, Hermione Granger, a third of the Golden Trio and brainpower extraordinaire, was as lonely as she had been in her first year at Hogwarts. _And, it was her birthday._ Apart from the presents from Harry, Neville and Luna, no one had congratulated her on turning twenty years old. _No one at Hogwarts had remembered her birthday._

Her parents were in Australia, still without any memories of their real past. Everyone told her that reversal of a Memory Charm of the magnitude she had used would destroy their minds. She shuddered at the recollection of the shocked face of the St. Mungo's Head Healer in mind injuries:

 _The white-haired, old witch had whispered: "Were you out of you mind? No one does something like that. We've never had anything like it or heard about it, not even You-Know-Who did ever try to replace someone's entire life experiences like that. I'm amazed you succeeded, but also scared – this is dark use of Mind magic of a high level indeed. A reversal would be likely to overload their brains to the point of destruction. Do not attempt a recovery if you value your parents at all."_

Snarling out a loss of points to a couple of snogging Ravenclaws, she speeded up until she could slam her own door behind her. Sinking down on her sofa, she hid her face in her hands, giving in to a frustrated sob. _Merlin, she wanted her parents: Safe, sound and remembering her. And she was supposed to be happy with Ron. It wasn't supposed to end like this. That disastrous love affair should never had happened._

It had all started in bed. The kissing was fabulous, but the sex wasn't. Plainly, he just didn't do it for her, and in all likelihood, she didn't do it for him either. Ron got embarrassed, angry, hurt and frustrated. She was disappointed, sore, frustrated and felt like she failed an exam every single time they tried. Out of their mutual frustration, the other rows started: Who did the dishes last time, her not making dinner as well as Molly, him not doing the laundry right and making a mess of her bookshelves, the disagreement on the idea to live next door to the Burrow, enabling the Weasley clan to just "pop by" at all hours. And she berated herself for making the final blow. _If only she had shut up…  
\- _

_They had another, disastrous copulation. He had been too fast and too rough, it had hurt her, she had squirmed in pain, telling him to stop, but he only grunted: "A few more, 'Mione, I'm almost there!" As Ron withdrew his dripping cock, she had stared angrily at him. He had growled out: "Gods, 'Mione, can't you just relax and enjoy, for once? Normal women orgasm from time to time, you know!"_

 _Stung, she hissed at him: "I know! I come every time I masturbate. You're doing this wrong, no matter how I tell you to do it! It's not supposed to be this painful!"_

 _His face reddened, and he blurted out: "Lavender was satisfied!"_

 _She sneered at him, checking with a hand between her legs if she was bleeding this time too, and spat: "She probably faked it!"_

 _In hindsight, she realized that this hit straight in his male pride, but, at the moment, she was caught up in her own anger. His eyes bulged slightly, and he rose from the bed, slamming the door to the bathroom. And that was the last time they had been in bed together. Two days later, he had made the front page of the Prophet, kissing two model witches at the same time. Everyone in the wizarding world knew that Hermione Granger, War Heroine and Brain Power Extraordinaire, had just been stood up. Everyone knew she had failed in her relationship. Rita Skeeter had a field day – or rather a whole season of it._

But it didn't matter, in the end. She knew, deep inside, that their relationship was doomed. They didn't have any interests in common, and they weren't able to navigate the boring trivia of everyday life together, after the war-fueled adrenaline kick of being on the run. Still, she had failed in public and in private. And failure was simply something that Hermione Granger wasn't equipped to handle. _And she missed her friendship with Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys._

She made a quick decision, and strode into the bathroom to grab a vial. _Some way to celebrate turning twenty._ Sitting down on her bed, she downed her trusty Dreamless Sleep, and she was gone by the time her head hit the pillow.

Xxxx

Her chest filled up with a deep intake of breath and deflated. This would be the first time she would run a lesson on her own with the fifth year Arithmancy class, and her stomach was in knots. She knew she had a good lesson plan, approved by Septima, and it was highly unlikely that anyone in class would ask her a question she couldn't answer. _But as for controlling the class, oh, she was nervous_.

The fifth years were almost thirty students, the largest OWL-class Septima had ever had. Twenty-five were young wizards, and only the five girls and six of the boys had any interest what so ever in the subject. The rest of them were, strictly speaking, mostly interested in _her._

When she had assisted Septima in the class, the adoring – or rather _lustful_ – looks had followed her around the classroom, and whispers spread in the room whenever the students were working on a task. _And why, oh why, when she finally got some attention from the opposite sex, WHY did it have to be from adolescent wizards? Why couldn't a young, adult, handsome wizard with a good enough brain show her this kind of attention?_

Her Arithmancy Mistress was well aware of the situation.

"It's not something I've ever experienced myself, Hermione," the older woman said calmly. "You yourself has more experience in fending off fans than I have. I believe the best way to go about it would be to stay fair, strict and not put up with any nonsense. The only teacher here who could give you any advice on fans in class would be Severus, though I hardly think he changed anything after the war in the way he handles his classes."

At that, Hermione had snorted out loud. To Septima, she said: "I don't think Professor Snape has ever had any trouble with his students. He's … well, more than a little scary as a teacher. No one would be stupid enough to put a toe out of line in his class."

At that, Septima had almost giggled, as she replied: "Why don't you find your inner Severus, then, and channel him in your lesson."

The two of them burst out into laughter, and Hermione almost had to wipe her eyes. But now, ten minutes later, only moments before she had to unlock the door to let her students into the classroom, she felt very unsure. It was only a small relief that Septima would be in the adjoining office. She had to handle whatever happened by herself, or else the rumour about her being a pushover teacher would spread quickly. Suddenly, she felt like it actually might be a good idea to take a leaf out of Professor Snape's book, scaring the students into submission.

She closed her eyes and flicked her wand to open the door.

The mass of students pushed in, a gaggle of boys jostling forward, pushing the other students out of their way to get the front seats.

 _Merlin. I hate this,_ she realized, _though I think I'd love to be a teacher if only the students cared for the subject._

She forced herself to stare impassively at her students as they slowly found their places. Nervously, she checked the time, seeing that precious minutes were ticking by before the students were seated. Suddenly, struck by inspiration – _what would Professor Snape do? -_ she slashed her wand to make the door slam shut, leaving three stragglers outside in the corridor.

"Five points from Hufflepuff for sheer failure to show up in due time," she said quietly, making the class fall silent, gaping at her.

Then one of the front row boys shot a hand up, waving.

"Yes, Mr. Debennon?" she said, pointing at him.

"Are you a real teacher, Miss Granger? Are you allowed to dock points?" The little rascal had the audacity to wink at her, before he continued: "Because, you look so young, and so _nice_ , Miss Granger."

His buddies sniggered, while the girls, forced to the back of the classroom, rolled their eyes ostentatiously.

"Believe me, I can both dock points and assign detentions, "she replied tonelessly, staring down the boy as well as she could manage. _Inside, an abnormally cheery voice in her mind chanted: Dock points, dock lots of points, that's what Snape would have done!_

The boy's grin disappeared quickly, as she continued: "And ten points from Ravenclaw for pure stupidity. You should have listened to the Headmistress' introduction at the welcoming feast, where she explained me having privileges as a teacher. As an Arithmancer, you'll find that that a good memory is important when you are to determine your factors for the equations, Mr. Debennon."

After that, the class was quiet, though the first row boys were shuffling, whispering a little between themselves as usual. Hermione, on the other hand, felt a twinge of guilt for pretending to be so grumpy.

Xxxx

Monday evening found her discussing her master thesis with Vector and McGonagall. They were sitting comfortably in front of the fire in the staff room, McGonagall nursing a tumbler of that dreadful Firewhisky brewed by her brother. After spending almost the entire day, as usual, in the library reading up on advanced Arithmancy theories and doing equations on her own, Hermione luxuriated in curling up into the deep, wingback chair, Butterbeer in hand.

Thankfully, Francis Heron was on patrol, and she could relax without him breathing down her neck. And finally, she could eat and drink at the Head table without her stomach knotting up in fear of love potions: Snape was back after another weekend away from Hogwarts, and she had had a full, English breakfast, a solid lunch meal and a nice supper. She felt happy and relaxed.

"There are so many opportunities I want to explore," she sighed contentedly, enjoying the sheer _possibilities_ of the research she would have to undertake. "Predicting politics, practical things like the rate of re-offenses after Azkaban, the likelihood of Muggleborn births and Squibs and a way to determine the magical ability of a child based on the parents abilities, the future outcome of the Death Eater resurgence, and…"

Septima smiled at her. "I know, and I can imagine you being hard pressed to choose, what with your wide field of interests," her Mistress said kindly. "You should talk to Poppy if you'd want to pursue anything relating to magical health issues. She knows a lot about this field." Furrowing her brow, she remarked: "Minevra, I can't recall seeing Poppy at all today. Or yesterday. Is she away?"

Minerva nodded, her eyes a little unfocused due to the strength of her dreadful whisky. "It's very odd, but she must be. Poppy is always so very thorough, and this time she's gone off without notifying anyone. I suppose it's a family emergency, I know her father has been gravely ill for a while."

They stared at the fireplace for a while, until the Headmistress cleared her throat, continuing their discussion of Hermione's thesis: "Do take care, Hermione. If your emotions are too much invested in your project, your equations are likely to be faulty. This is a danger for the typical Gryffindor in Arithmancy, and it's incidentally also the reason why most renowned Arithmancers are from Ravenclaw or Slytherin. But I'm sure that you'll prove that otherwise, Hermione, with your talents." Minerva beamed at her, both pride of their house and her deep faith in Hermione shining through. Hermione suddenly felt her throat catch, and her eyes burning. _Such faith in her… it felt so good. She'd want to prove anything to be worthy of that kind of faith._

"It doesn't matter," a deep voice drawled behind her. Snape was standing there in his immaculate black, right behind her chair, and she had to twist to look up at him. He looked down into her face with an unreadable expression. "You set too much store on emotions, and by that you'll forget important factors. Your feelings will cloud your judgement, and make your predictions flawed. You need to be more levelheaded, assessing the factors with more detachment, seeing the whole picture to avoid being biased. And, as a female Gryffindor, you're almost bound to fail in this."

"Now listen, Severus," Septima started angrily, while Minerva hiccuped with an irritated frown.

But Hermione was not to be bowled over by his derision. _To draw in her sex! Did the man live in the year 1899 instead of 1999? No matter what she did, this wizard infuriatingly enough managed to keep her on her toes. She wouldn't stand for this, anymore – and then she realized he was relishing the fact that he had riled her up._ His eyes held a devious glint, and she could almost see the corners of his mouth quirking in amusement.

Feeling irritated that she almost fell for his ploy, she narrowed her eyes at him, saying as cool and aloof as she managed: "What an extraordinary idea, Professor Snape. I didn't know the wizarding world kept to such arcane ideas of the sexes. And, I believe, Muggle research shows that you cannot escape your pre-understanding when interpreting or assessing a situation. Therefore, it is obviously a faulty premise to believe that cool logic alone will lead to sound predictions. But I believe this is interesting research question. If Septima agrees, I would like my master thesis to focus on how to determine the importance of feelings when making predictions, and analyzing how emotions might influence the choice of factors – _or not_."

She was rewarded with a brief, impressed look in Snape's dark eyes, and he nodded at her. "This would be very useful, though it is a highly theoretical research question, Miss Granger. I will enjoy reading your thesis."

Septima beamed at her, saying: "Your idea has merit, Hermione. We'll talk about this, I'm sure we can make this work!"

Xxxx

The news was _horrendous._ They always were, to some extent, but today it was worse than usual. Hermione felt bile in her throat, and she mechanically chewed her toast as she made herself read every, single sentence.

 _Death Eaters might have blown up Muggle church in York during Sunday service, 11 killed and 42 injuried. Religious Muggle leaders believe the entity "Satan" to be behind the attack, as Muggle Television broadcasted a diffuse picture of smoke from the burning church, slightly resembling the Dark Mark crowning the sky. Minister of Magic Croaker says people shouldn't panic, as there no conclusive reports on Death Eater involvement from the Auror Office. However, Auror sources says resources are redirected from investigating Death Eater activities to regular policework to meet public demands of solving magical crime and thefts, on the order of the Minister himself. Head of Auror Office, Mr. Shacklebolt, refuses to comment, saying: - If people chooses to believe that, it won't change anything as Auror priorities are not up to public discussion._

Sighing, she wondered: _Would it ever end?_ Taking quick a look around, she saw her colleagues were quiet and worried too, but Poppy was still missing, she noted. Yesterday, at the morning staff meeting, Minerva had informed them all that the school matron was away. The Headmistress had said she wasn't quite sure yet as to how long Poppy would be gone, and Head of Houses were required to treat any smaller injuries and hurts in the meantime. As Filius and Pomona groaned, Snape rolled his eyes and Hagrid snorted, Minerva had amended: "You might ask for help from the House Elves if it proves to be too much." But the worry in Minerva's eyes had been unnerving. It was clear that she still didn't know why Poppy had left. Hermione sighed, turning back to the awful news.

Beside her, Snape was munching on his toast, making a crunching sound as he bit through the crust. She stole a glance at him, but he looked as unfazed as always, reading the piece in the paper. _Why wasn't he more worried? If she was the top target, he had to at least make it in the top five too as the great traitor to the Death Eaters' cause. Did he believe himself so powerful that he would be safe, or did he think his former brethren wouldn't attack him? Was it possible that he had an agreement with them…?_ She stopped herself short. _She would NOT speculate on this. In her eyes, Severus Snape would be innocent until proven otherwise. He was a hero, too._

Xxxx

Granger was the talk of the staff room – of course, whenever she wasn't present. He enjoyed sitting in his chair, listening to his colleagues gossiping.

"And, my seventh years asked me, and they were trembling – I'd say, _trembling_ –" Septima shrieked, face glowing due to the half a bottle of Port she had downed, "asking when Miss Granger would be in training for their level. And when I told them she isn't due for the seventh year Arithmancy class until next year, they were so relieved, knowing that they'd escape her! She's really put them on their toes!"

"Hear, hear," Rolanda said, "I was never worried she wouldn't handle the classes."

Filius Flitwick snorted, saying: "After what I heard from my Ravenclaws, she's quite scary. Did you know, Severus, some of them actually compared her teaching methods to you?"

He arched his eyebrows, and said: "I suppose Granger decided to be firm with the students. I look forward to assess her when she'll be in my classes. I'll have her cover seventh year classes in both Defense and Potions."

Septima hooted with laughter. "Severus, you just made that up right now, after I told how frightened they were! Now the seventh years will get a full Granger experience anyway. I can't believe you – this is so funny!"

Filius giggled slightly, and asked: "When will this take place?"

Septima said: "Oh, she'll do Defense and Potions with Severus in October and November. She'll be in your Charms class in January, Filius."

Filius raised a very bushy eyebrow. "Only you, Severus? What about Francis and Cato?"

"Too little teaching experience," Septima hissed, voice very low. "Severus is the logical choice. Those other two, they're more interested in getting her to bed."

Severus shifted, a little uncomfortably in his chair. _Thank Merlin, Septima had no idea of who had the starring role in his sexual fantasies for the time being._

"Poor Hermione, she'll never know what hit her when you're responsible for her practical training," Filius laughed heartily. "But I guess you have everything under control, Severus."

"Don't worry," he said, smiling slightly. "I have a good plan."

Xxxx

Minerva hobbled into the staff room, and her quarry was, for once, chatting amiably with other members of the faculty. She almost felt bad about disturbing him, but this was too important.

"Severus, I'd like a word with you", she said impatiently.

His eyebrows rose, and she _knew_ what he was thinking. _He obviously believed the castle had acted up again, and no wonder, with the infuriatingly little slights the damned thing seemed to give her all the time_.

He followed her out in the hallway, and she pointed to an unused classroom, warding the door behind them.

Severus loomed over her, as always clad in his midnight black robes with his perpetual scowl in place. Still, he took an apparently relaxed stance with his hands clasped behind his back, but he wasn't fooling her. _Minerva knew he was ready to fight in an instant, he always was, and always had been for as long as she had known him._

Bluntly, she said: "Poppy is missing. She's been gone for four days, and at first, I thought it was a family emergency. I contacted her sister today, as I haven't heard anything. Severus, her sister said Poppy isn't there, and everything is as good as to be expected with their father. Do you have any contacts, any way of finding information if this is a worst case scenario?"

To his credit, the man blanched, but he slowly shook his head, strands of his hair swinging slowly about his face. "I'm afraid not, Minerva, I'm not on speaking terms with anyone who's not openly reformed. In any case, I can always ask around at the Malfoys, Rowles or Selwyns, but I highly doubt they would know anything either. They rather make a point of staying out of trouble. You have sounded an alarm to the Ministry, I suppose?"

"Yes," she hissed, "but they're not helping. There's _no danger_ , you know!" Her voice twisted into an ugly, mocking tone, but she would _not_ feel bad for slighting the Ministry, not when one of _her_ staff members were missing. The Ministry was, after all, **_idiots_**. _That Gawain Robarts at the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement... She just couldn't see why he was allowed to continue on after his facedown groveling during Voldemort's reign. Poor Kingsley, being forced to work for that kind of boss._

Severus shook his head, face grim in a way that made her shiver. "That's where they're wrong, Minerva. Oh, so very wrong."

Xxxx

Severus followed Granger out of the Great Hall after lunch, strolling leisurely as he had a free period. She was walking like she didn't notice her surroundings, head down, muttering to herself. From the snatches he heard, it had to be variations on possible research questions for her thesis. But he was more interested in watching her pert little bottom, wriggling underneath her tight pencil skirt. _Yes, he'd read her thesis, with great relish too,_ he supposed _, but for the moment, that interesting sway of her hips was enough to keep his mind busy._ Though he should really think about thwarting her spying activities. _He had his own agenda, and …_

Suddenly he noticed, a gang of Ravenclaw seventh years boys was staring at her – no, _ogling_ her – and whispering between themselves in the hallway. She paid them no attention, but his finely honed instincts, sharpened by his too-long teaching experience, told him that the boys were up to something.

Suddenly, one of them, a burly looking boy named Melvin Dovirum – _good potioneer, did quality work in his NEWT-class –_ snuck up behind her, groping her tight little arse, stroking along her butt cheeks, giving her a hard pinch.

His breath caught – _the little bastard, trying to intimidate her._ He almost moved forward, but stopped himself. _Granger could hold her own_. _If not, she wasn't cut out for teaching. Or life in general._

She spun furiously, pinning her wand at the little wretch's throat, growling threateningly at him: "What was that, Mr. Dovirum? Did you suddenly think that all women were free to grab, pinch and harass? I'm very sorry to shatter your illusions, but _you need to ask before you try to fondle a girl._ And the answer is no, which you'll surely experience more often than not!"

The last sentence came out as a bark, and she lowered her wand, turning half away, before she suddenly twisted back, confronting the boy again, saying in an almost normal tone, though he could only describe her eyes as _vicious_ : "Oh, and your detention will be served with Filch. You'll clear all the drains of the public bathrooms, on all the floors, no matter how much time you'll use on this task. Without magic. I hope after the next, two weeks, you'll have had ample time to reconsider the way you approach witches – of all ages."

The boys gaped at her, and she stalked down the corridor, her hair bristling like she was a very angry cat. Severus had to admit to himself: _He was impressed._ This was, simply put, good retribution, and he felt certain those boys wouldn't bother her again. Briefly, he wondered if she too had any trouble with suitors and lovesick fools after the war. He conceded to himself that she probably had. If people approached _him,_ surely Granger as an attractive young witch would be swamped with love letters. Though after witnessing this, he was sure she was able to keep anyone she didn't want away.

Bearing down on the boys, he barked at them: "Don't you have classes to attend? Run along, you imbeciles, and try not to accost anyone else on your way. You seem to need a chaperone as you're clearly not fit to be left on your own. Ten points from Ravenclaw – each!"

Swooping by them, he grinned to himself as one of them muttered: "Damn. That Granger, she's almost as bad as Snape. But still, she's not even close."

 _He needed to talk to Granger, this was a great opportunity to get on her good side._ Lengthening his stride, he caught up with her quickly. Leaning down to her ear, he said in a low voice: "Well done, Granger. Rumour has it you scared your fifth year Arithmancy class into blessed silence after a few minutes, too."

Looking surprised, she grinned toothily at him. "I had inspiration. From one of my own teachers."

He arched an eyebrow at her, replying with amusement: "Say no more, Granger." _He had, indeed, heard quite enough in the staff room on who she was trying to impersonate. Septima had practically rolled on the floor, laughing as she retold the story of Granger's first class. Though, he had to admit, he hadn't thought she'd be quite this effective. He should probably interpret this as some sort of twisted compliment._

Then she frowned: "What happened to "Miss", Professor?"

He put a hand between her shoulder blades, letting it rest lightly on her back: "We're almost colleagues now, Granger. A tad more informal address might be in place for me. For _you_ , however, I'll be a Professor until you hold that title yourself, Granger."

She furrowed her brows in consternation, and – _he couldn't help himself_ – he let his hand slip down her back, for a very brief moment letting it rest on the small of her back, before he turned to walk in another direction.

Upon reaching his office, he shut the door behind him with a bang, automatically warding it.

He leaned on his desk, staring into space for a moment. _Merlin, he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, feel her heat._ Throwing himself down into his chair, he felt his cock stir at his thoughts. _Gods, that one time in the shower hadn't been the only time he'd wanked with her in mind. She was fast becoming a staple in his erotic fantasies. And now, he had touched her voluntarily in real life too, not being able to stop himself._

Groaning, he released his cock, remembering the swell of her hips and her narrow waist. _She had shivered a little as he had stroked her back. Was that because she enjoyed it, or was she disgusted by him? It might be because he was her disagreeable former teacher, the greasy dungeon bat, the evil Death Eater, or it might be because she wanted his touch too._ Right now, he was very sure what he _wanted_ her to think.

 _She would moan, gasp and beg him to touch her. He would mold his body into hers, pull up her tight pencil skirt, moving his hands between her thighs, feeling her wetness, probing her pussy with his fingers, feeling how slick she was for him, lift her up and press her against the wall, moving her knickers aside as he pushed into her…_

Furiously tugging at his aching cock, he lost himself in his fantasy. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were far away, in a place where Hermione Granger screamed his name in ecstasy, her cunt squeezing him as he ravished her, taking her hard up against the wall, bending his knees to get his thrusts deep enough, filling her up with his throbbing cock…

With a grunt, he came, spurting his seed, long shots of creamy fluid, covering his hands and his stomach with thick, ropey strands. Panting, he cleaned himself up with a shaky _Tergeo,_ dressing himself quickly. _Gods, it was almost time to prepare the classroom for his sixth year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw Potion class. Wanking between classes like a fifth year student, it was pathetic, not something that a wizard fast approaching forty should be doing. And all for the young, delectable, too-smart witch that didn't even like him, she merely sought him out to spy on him._

Resentment bubbled in him, and though it was inadvisable, he wanted nothing but getting back at her for his humiliating, unrequited desire. Today, he'd take the bull by its horns. Those sixth year buggers would be brewing Amortentia. After this, the risk of getting food spiked with a love potion would be considerably higher.


	5. Drinking with the Faculty

**A/N:** _Thanks for following, favoriting and reviewing! I really appreciate that. I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter! Please let me know if you loved it, liked it or hated it. Warning: We're in for a darker turn. This chapter have non-graphic mentions of torture and rape._

* * *

 ** _The Daily Prophet, 24 September:_**

 _Head of Auror Office, Kingley Shacklebolt, refuses to comment on Auror priorities to not go after the Death Eaters. – That's because he wildly disagrees with the Minister, says a Ministry source close to the war hero. – Shacklebolt is in favour of more decisive measures, but the Minister is holding him back._

 _– Not true, denies spokeswitch Marigold Lebennon on behalf of the Minister. – The Minister always listens conscientiously to advice from the Auror Office. He has a great deal of respect for Shacklebolt and his Aurors._

It was Friday, and she was battered into going to Hogsmeade with those professors not on patrol. Hooch, Sinistra, Byror, Sprout, Heron and Gewerryn were a bunch in need of drinks. _A lot of drinks._ The Three Broomsticks was filled up with people having after-work drinks before the weekend. The pub was almost steamy from roaring heat of the fireplace and the damp clothes by those witches and wizards being surprised by the sudden deluge outside. The Hogwarts faculty had a long table to themselves at the back, and most of them nursed different sorts of hard liquor.

"Gods, those fifth years!" Marius Gewerryn hid his thin, pale face in his hands, scrubbing his eyes, before downing yet another glass of Firewhisky.

"I know," Aurora Sinistra harrumphed. "That's always the worst year. At fifteen, hormones are raging, they think they know _everything_ , they hate themselves, their love life or their lack of it causes conflicts, they cry, scuffle and hold little wars – and they are not even remotely interested in school."

"Tell me about it!" Marius groaned. "I had three girls crying in my classroom today, and two boys were fighting. The boys, by the way, Hermione, were fighting over you."

She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of those lovesick boys, _children_ , really. "I don't know what to say about that," she murmured, feeling half irritated and half embarrassed.

"To top that up, one of the girls were crying about _Snape_ ," Marius continued, looking disgusted.

Cato Byror and Francis Heron roared with laughter. "How come they _do_ that?" Cato snorted. "He's not handsome and not particularly nice to anyone."

Francis rolled his eyes, and said: "Merlin, he's a vile piece of shit, isn't he? I never believed his story of being a double spy. In my opinion, he was a turncoat all the time. And now, he's gone almost every weekend. Where is he, if not doing anything awful in secret? He'll leave the castle tonight or tomorrow at the latest, and I bet he won't be back until Sunday. Mark my words, come Monday, the _Prophet_ will be full of another Death Eater attack!"

"Now hold on!", Rolanda Hooch, Aurora Sinistra and Pomona Sprout said almost simultaneously, glaring at Heron.

"Severus is one of the good guys, and it was vital that everyone believed him to be a Death Eater," Rolanda continued angrily. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

For a moment, the silence was very uncomfortable, and Heron thinned his lips, looking defiantly away. Then Gewerryn said placatingly: "Be that as it may, but still, I don't profess to understand what all those young girls see in him." Turning playfully at Hermione, he said: "However, _you_ are a young woman, Hermione. Will you enlighten me by explaining what the girls sees in Severus?"

She gaped at him, fidgeting a little on her chair, drumming her fingers on her half-empty pint of porter. _What was attractive about Severus Snape? His torso? No, she could never say that out loud to her colleagues. His brilliant mind, maybe, if she had to offer up something. But she was quite sure, those girls weren't all that interested in his intelligence._ Giggling a little inwardly, she thought: _His abnormally large nose giving him the ability to recognize love potions_. Though, her brow furrowed, she was probably on her own in that respect, _again._

"Well," she said slowly, "I'm not really sure. But if I had to make a guess, it would be his status as a romantic hero, more than his looks. He did all this for the love of Harry's mum, and that's something a lot of witches would find incredibly romantic." Seeing the other staff members nod, she suddenly questioned herself. _Had she wronged him by disparaging his looks? He was, by no means, a handsome man. But he was tall, with broad shoulders, striking dark eyes, an overwhelming presence, and –_ she suddenly realized _– she enjoyed looking at his hands. And that voice, she could listen to him all day._ Clearing her throat, she added: "He does have a sexy voice, though."

That made several of her colleagues blink, and she felt herself fighting a blush.

"You're damn right, girl!" Rolanda said decisively, clinking her glass to Hermione's, making the Firewhisky slosh over the rim of the glass. "Severus isn't all that bad, and you guys," she pointed in turn to Gewerryn, Byror and Heron, "are only jealous because he's getting some and you're not."

Rolanda smiled deviously at them, and joined in the laughter with Pomona and Aurora. Hermione followed them with a shaky smile, downing her butterbeer, but all the while she thought: _I must be batty. I might actually think Professor Snape to have several, attractive traits. This is really silly and scary._

Xxxx

An insistent knocking on his door drove him out of his concentration. Bent over a bubbling cauldron in his private lab, he had been experimenting with a potion for detecting _Amortentia_. His sixth years had taken to the potion like ducks to water – to the point where he had been worried for his own safety. Growling, he put it in stasis, answering his door, as he brushed sweaty strands of hair away from his face.

"Yes," he said tiredly, "what is it?" Minerva was on the outside, and she was pale and trembling.

"Gods, Severus," she said, almost sobbing, "it's Poppy. Please come to the Hospital Wing at once."

The Hospital Wing was dark, and only a single candle lit up a bed at the very end of the room. A small, shivering figure, huddled into a ball on the bed, was the only occupant of the room.

"Thank Merlin there were no students here," Minerva whispered. "I need you to help her. Filch found her at the gates, just curled up like this. She won't tell me what's wrong, and she won't tell me where it hurts or what happened."

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Severus rather thought he _knew_ what had happened. _Why Poppy Pomfrey?_ he thought, feeling nauseated. She had always been kind to him during his schooldays, patching him up after his scuffles with the Marauders and other students, never giving him reproach when she treated those who had been on the wrong side of _his_ wand. She had been a good colleague too, friendly, even to an extent during his tenure as the Death Eater Headmaster. The matron had patched him up like usual after fights and accidents in the Dark Lord's service, telling him that her Hippocratic Oath didn't allow her to discern between people, as all sick people were equally deserving of her help. To her, it hadn't mattered that he was immersed in his role as the Death Eater, the harsh Headmaster who let the Cruciatus be a tool for punishment in his school.

He sighed, and said softly to Minerva: "If this is what I believe, and what _you_ fear, the best thing will be for me to use Legilimency on her, seeing the injuries and what happened to her through her mind. To make her say it out loud may be troublesome, if not impossible. Let me try, and then we'll call the Aurors. Them barging in to interrogate her will do more harm than good. You should, however, alert St. Mungo's. She'll need professional help."

Minerva's bottom lip quivered, and she turned quickly away, stuffing her hand to her mouth to strangle the sobs threatening to break out. Breathing heavily into her fist, she tried compose herself, and in that moment, Severus felt all his respect and regard for the tough, proper witch blossom in his chest. _Like himself, Minerva would always do what she thought was right, no matter the cost to herself. Still, the old witch really cared for her colleagues. It rarely came through, but when it did, it always made an impact on him._ Swallowing heavily, he reached out a hand, patting her arm awkwardly.

"Oh, Severus," a low wail escaped the Headmistress. "Why would anyone do such a thing to Poppy? She was the nicest, friendliest, most helpful witch!"

"I don't know, but we'll find out," he said darkly.

Stepping up to the bed, he rested his hand lightly on Poppy's shoulder.

The witch whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, and she babbled: "Please, don't, not again, please, it hurts, don't, please, I can't, please, don't hurt me, please, I don't want to, please, let me go, mama, help me…"

He winced, looking at McGonagall standing in the shadows a few metres away from the bed, their eyes sharing the pain of what had probably happened to their colleague, their _friend_. Conjuring himself a chair, he sat down heavily beside the bed. "Poppy, it's me, Severus," he said, making his voice as gentle as it could go. The witch only trembled in response, trying to curl herself into a tighter ball. He continued: "You're safe at Hogwarts, now. No one will hurt you. I can tell you've been through terrible things, and I promise we'll help you."

"No," the witch muttered, "I can't tell, I can't say, it's not, don't make me!"

"Whatever they did to you or made you do, Poppy, you're free now. Hogwarts will protect you," he said, giving a solemn nod to her. "You don't have to say it out loud, if you'll let me into your mind. Your memories will show me," he said quietly, bracing himself for what he knew he would see. _His brethren would have done what they always did._

Slowly, the small witch opened her tear-swollen eyes, and he said softly: " _Legilimens."_

Xxxx

 _He was transported into a mind that should have been bright and cheery, but it was not. Everything was grey and black, with strange things slinking through the shadows. An overwhelming feeling of sadness, hurt, humiliation and fear was layered through it all, and he transported himself into the shadows to see what he would find, letting the memories spin in front of his eyes._

She had been captured in Hogsmeade, roughly grabbed and Apparated to a large, run-down house. Severus winced, recognizing this to be the ruins of the Prince estate. _Incriminating as fuck,_ he thought angrily, despite the fact he didn't own the thing or had never even been invited there by his mother's family. Though, his late uncle had been a die-hard Death Eater, dying childless about the time Severus himself had joined the Dark Lord. Angrily, his eyes searched for anyone he knew underneath the cloaks and masks.

With a sigh, he recognized Antonin and Rabastan, both swaggering towards the witch and her captors.

"What have we here?" Antonin called out. "A new toy? I hope she's young and voluptuous!"

"Even better!" one of the wizards holding the matron shouted raucously. "It's a Hogwarts staff member!"

Jeering and catcalls broke out in the hall, and Severus could see that more than fifty Death Eaters were present, both males and females.

"Oooh," Rabastan laughed wickedly, "I know someone who'll be pleased to send such a message to the so-called Order and that bint McGonagall. Come on, witches and wizards, let's make our leader proud, in the memory of the Dark Lord!"

Xxxx

After what felt like hours, but in reality was no more than twenty minutes, he retreated from Poppy's mind, seeing Minerva still standing ramrod straight in the shadows. He grimaced, rubbing his tired eyes, and set a Bubble of Silence around Poppy, protecting her from his words. Then he said crisply to Minerva: "She's severely hurt, having been tortured for six days without food or water."

"Cruciatus?" Minerva whispered, and he nodded, feeling sorry for what he had to tell her.

Clearing his throat, he continued: "And not only that. Minerva, she's been raped, repeatedly, by several men and objects, in every orifice." A gasp of horror came from the old witch, but he continued, ruthlessly: "She'll need St. Mungo's for sure. But the worst part is that they've Obliviated parts of her mind. Not what they did, mind you, but happy memories, mimicking a Dementor effect."

The old Headmistress nodded, mouth thinning, and she choked out: "I'll Summon St. Mungo through the Floo immediately". She seemed so frail, so sunken, as she hurried away towards the fireplace in Poppy's office, but he could still hear muffled sobs.

Sighing, he looked at the small, broken frame of what once was Poppy Pomfrey. He suspected she'd never recover fully from her memory loss, as it was notoriously difficult to reverse Memory Charms. _And this, the downright mean, clever and evil Obliviate, smelled of Lucius. He hadn't spotted the man in the throng, but he might easily have been there, as the memories were jumbled, broken, disconnected and partly repressed. The next time he saw the man, he'd punish him. Lucius very well knew Severus both liked and respected Poppy Pomfrey, and that he wouldn't take her torture and abuse in his stride. On top of it all, incriminating Severus like this by holding the session in the Prince estate! The blonde wizard was in for a treatment,_ he swore darkly to himself _._

Xxxx

Hours later, as they left the pub, Francis slung his arms around her shoulder as the group of teachers were walking back to the castle. It had ended up much more fun and friendly than she had expected, and it was surprisingly easy to be drinking with her former teachers. But, as her state of mind had become more and more befuddled, she found herself scanning the pub. _Sweet Morgana, she felt flushed, horny and just about ready for some action._ She very rarely felt like going on a prowl, but the Three Broomsticks were rather disappointingly free from hot, young wizards tonight.

Turning to Francis, she furrowed her brows. _A sleazy, twenty-four year older colleague wasn't exactly what she had in mind._

He slurred at her: "Ermione, y' re a nice girl, y' know that? 'ery hot, 'ery smart. I wanna know you better. Join me fo' a quick nightcap, wi' you?" He winked outrageously at her.

She shook her head, freeing herself from his grasp. "No thanks, I'm rather tired," she said, stumbling a little on her feet, moving over to Rolanda instead. _Ok, she was drunk. And yes, it would be nice to get laid, to try sex again, hoping for a better experience. But Francis Heron was just not her kind of man._ Squinting at both Marius and Cato, she ruled out them too. Cato was too full of himself, too, and Marius way too old at fifty-seven, even though he was nice, not like those other two.

 _Maybe,_ her insidious drunken self said, _maybe it doesn't matter if Heron or Byror thinks too much of themselves, it could just be physical, a fling, nothing more. Just like it had been with her co-worker in the Ministry, after that Friday night bar-hopping event. The sex had been marginally better than with Ron, but still…_ Shaking her head, she knew it was the alcohol talking. _Those wizards were too unpalatable, it would make a mess out of work relations, and she'd rather have a go at Professor Snape._ The thought made her giggle soundlessly as they walked towards the castle. _That would be the day!_ She chuckled as she imagined his shocked frown and displeasure if she had tried to come on to him. _But seriously, she didn't have a death wish. Instead, she vowed to herself that she'd go down into Hogsmeade by herself. It would be nice to meet someone, someone who was not a colleague and not a schoolboy. There hadn't really been anyone but that night or two with her colleague after the break-up with Ron._

She nodded knowingly at Rolanda, though, when they both noticed that Marius and Aurora now were holding hands, looking each other in the eye with a small, private smile on their lips.

Xxxx

Hermione entered the staff room just on time, not early like usual, still feeling the effects of her night out. The Hangover Potion had helped, but she was tired and hungry, and she wondered what could be so important as to call a staff meeting at eight o'clock in the morning on a Saturday. Sitting down, she suddenly noticed the room being too quiet. McGonagall stood in front of them, her eyes red-rimmed like she had been crying.

"As we're all here, it is my sad duty to report that Poppy has been subjected to a vicious attack," the Headmistress said, face grave, serious and unforgiving. "Currently, she's in St. Mungo, and we know this attack was made by the Death Eaters."

Gasps ran like a shockwave through the staff, but once again, Hermione noted that Snape seemed to be unsurprised. Shivering, she thought of the matron. She was friendly, strong-willed, but a little reserved, and Hermione had fond memories of her from her long stay in the Infirmary as a cat-girl in the second year.

Minerva continued: "Filch found her last night at the gates, and thanks to help from Severus using Legilimency, we have established what happened to her. I'm afraid to say that it might be a long time before she's back, if ever. She has … undergone severe torture."

"Legilimency?" asked Francis. "Surely she could tell you herself? Have you alerted the Aurors?"

"It stands to reason we've alerted the Ministry," Minerva said, irritation lacing her voice. "And I can tell you as much, Poppy was not in a state to tell us herself last night." The Headmistress sighed, seeming old and careworn, as she shared a glance with Snape. "However, the Auror Office decided that you could be told of the attack as her friends and colleagues and to appraise you of the danger. I would beg you all to take the outmost care, and to immediately report any suspicious activities, and please be careful when you enture outside Hogwarts on your own. However, you are not to tell anyone outside this room. The Aurors seem to think the Death Eaters want publicity, and even though we would like nothing better than to tell everyone the truth, the Ministry has sworn us to secrecy. I hereby invoke the Vow of Silence you've all pledged yourself to."

Minerva darted a quick glance at Hermione, and she felt herself hitch her breath. _She wasn't a teacher, she hadn't made a Vow of Silence. She could tell anyone she wanted to._ She returned a tiny, imperceptible nod at Minerva, seeing a glimpse of satisfaction in the old witch's eyes.

xxxx

The _Prophet_ was running a series of presentations of the Death Eaters believed to be on the loose, and she was reading it with great interest at breakfast, trying to concentrate on something apart from the horrible news about the school matron. Professor Snape was, as usual, sitting beside her, and she noticed he looked at the paper over her shoulder.

"This is all wrong," he pointed out, leaning over. "Rookwood was never a "more civilized" Death Eater, like that bint Skeeter portrays him to be. I believe they try to paint him in a more favourable light, because so many people liked him in the Ministry. He seems to be very friendly and affable, but he's truly vicious, and I suspect his network of informants are still at large. As for the two Mulcibers, I'd say its positively dangerous to believe what Skeeter says here. They are definitively not stupid or blundering. Both father and son are highly skilled combatants, with excellent strategic skills."

He turned to look at her, and suddenly, awkwardly, she found her head only inches away from his. For a moment, she felt like she'd drown in his black eyes, before she wrenched her gaze away. _Still, the smell of him lingered._ Her eyes closed, and her nostrils widened to catch more of it, a lovely, masculine smell. _Something spicy, a little leather, a whisky note, laudanum and mandarin…_ Opening her eyes, exhaling sensuously, she looked straight into his eyes again. He stared back, eyes intense. Forcing her mind away from that sensory overload, she told herself scathingly: _Focus, Granger, focus!_

"Where do you think they're hiding?" she said, eyes now locked on his mouth – _so tantalizing close…_ She shuddered, feeling little goosebumps settling on her arms.

He withdrew from her, replying: "My best guess is that they're hiding in plain sight. Going Muggle, I presume."

At that, she managed a small chuckle, lifting her eyebrow at him: "How _that_ would rankle them!"

"Indeed," he said, looking a little uncomfortable.

Xxxx

When Hermione left the Great Hall, he let his eyes follow her slender form as she walked towards the doors. _Had she understood how much he wanted her? To which degree his self-control had been pushed? When she had closed her eyes, so obviously inhaling his scent, he had needed to forcibly check himself from kissing those parted lips._ But then she had shuddered, her disgust with him clearly visible. Feeling both hurt and angry, he glared at his teacup, like it had offended him grievously. _As for where the Death Eaters were hiding, he was not about to tell anyone about them staying in his ancestors' estate. They might not even be there anymore, it would be a sound strategy to move around between different locations._

His musings were interrupted by Filius Flitwick, who commented: "You're positively chatty after Hermione showed up. I never thought you'd say a word at breakfast before she returned to us."

Severus scowled at his longtime colleague, seeing a faint smirk on his face. _Buggering hell! Filius,_ he knew, _was not above starting rumours about him. He did not need his colleagues to believe he was falling hard and fast for Granger. Because there was absolutely no way that was happening. There was no place for someone like her in his life._

Xxxx

On her way to the library, she wondered: _Who should she tell about the attack on Poppy? She could invoke the deal with Skeeter, but she was reluctant to push more material into the hands of that woman. Deciding to wait for a while – she rather wanted to talk to Poppy herself before telling anyone – she wrote a letter to Harry, inquiring as to how the investigation of the attack came along._

Xxxx

On his way for his weekend visit, he made a stop at Malfoy Manor. The Manor looked once again bright and friendly, more like it had been before the Dark Lord annexed it for his Headquarters, but to Severus' mood, it seemed overly cheery.

"Lucius!" he barked, as he emerged from the Floo, dusting the soot from his coat all over the luxurious, thick Persian carpet in the Malfoy library, striding towards Lucius' chair.

As he had known, Lucius was predictably lounging comfortably in his reading chair, a glass of Glastonbury Apple Liqueur in his hand. The man was well-dressed as always, with silver-lined, black robes, and his hair was again shiny and sleek. He looked nothing like the harried man he had been by the end of the war.

"Severus, what a surprise," Lucius said with a smile, but his expression turned into alarm after taking one look at Severus' face.

"You!", he snapped, "you lying bastard! Didn't I tell you to lay low?"

"What…?" the blonde man sputtered confusedly.

"I saw Poppy Pomfrey's memories!" Severus spat, jabbing his finger into the sitting man's chest. Lucius leaned back, looking fearful. "First of all, you _know_ she didn't deserve this. For Merlin's sake, she patched up you and Narcissa after the Battle, and she's saved Draco a hundred times if she's saved him once!"

"I … I…I…" Lucius stuttered, but Severus was on a roll.

"Shut up," he said brutishly, "and second, I've told you to keep away from that business. I didn't take the trouble to support your testimony in your trial, creating and implanting all those altered memories in your favour, memories of YOU and NARCISSA and DRACO being threatened into submission to comply, just to have you joining in a spat of torture for fun at the first opportunity. It's my fucking credibility on the line, such as it is! I can't afford you to cast any shadows of suspicion on me. You KNOW what is at stake here. And having your game of torture in _my_ ancestors' home, no less!"

Lucius looked suitably contrite, but Severus knew it was all an act.

"I realize the location was somewhat unfortunate," the Malfoy Patriarch began smoothly.

"Unfortunate? If anyone finds out, you've as good as incriminated me!"

"You see, Antonin came to see me, and he told me they needed some work with Memory Charms." Lucius' voice was reasonable, like he wasn't talking about the brutal rape and torture of an innocent woman. "Really, Severus, I took great care to not be seen or detected, I swear, only Antonin knew I was there."

Severus snorted. "All of the Circle would have known, Lucius. Subtle, devious Obliviates like that are your area of expertise. And Antonin, what was he doing here anyway? Fuck him! I'll deal with him when I find him. You, however, need a reminder to stay on the path, Lucius."

"No," the man said, blanching,"no…"

Severus gave him a quirk of his eyebrow, and cast with a vicious tilt of his wand: " _Crucio."_

Xxxx

The day before she was due for training in his classes, he witnessed a new attempt to grope her, this time from a gaggle of Hufflepuff sixth years.

Her eyes flashed dangerously at the boys, and she said to the main perpetrator, a big, burly, blond boy, the very epitome of a Quidditch jock, with unnatural calm: "You will serve your detention with Filch. He will oversee you, and you will be scrubbing the floor on the Great Hall without magic – between meals."

Oddly enough, she gave the boy a little evil grin, continuing: "But the beauty is, you'll have to present a squeaky clean floor to Filch. That means, you'll either have to hurry before dinner, or you'll have to persuade Filch to let you wash the floor at night to get enough undisturbed working hours. Good luck, Mr. Lornington."

Severus had to admit, he was impressed. This was an almost impossible task, due to the size of the Great Hall. _This was both hard work and humiliation at the same time, with a likely possibility of having to do the work multiple times due to the short time available between classes and dinner – this was a way of setting a detention almost worthy of a Death Eater._

She was walking towards him, skirt swishing around those round hips and that narrow waist, and he blurted out, stupidly, impulsively: "Join me for coffee before your training starts for the Defense class tomorrow. My brew is infinitively better than the House-Elves."

Eyes widening, she nodded, her face breaking out into a small grin.

Xxxx

She was bored out of her mind. Cato Byror was sitting beside her at dinner, and he told her fanciful stories of how he had saved a bunch of people with his potion skills. Trouble was, she didn't quite believe him, after learning he had hid out on his property during the war.

"And then I brewed all night, taking no time to pause, working hard to create an antidote to the poison, and I succeeded. After spooning the antidote into the mouths of the ten poisoned people, they quickly regained their health." He beamed at her, before launching into a new story.

She rolled her eyes, seeing an exasperated look on Snape's face on her other side. Then Snape sniffed his goblet, looking at it with a dubious expression, before his lips curled into a wicked smirk.

"Byror," he said in his deep voice, cutting into the storytelling. "What would you say to the contents of this goblet, in a professional capacity, of course."

Byror took the goblet a little gingerly, and sniffed it. He looked at it, swirled the contents, and dipped a finger into it, then proceeding to put his finger into his mouth. At that, Snape's eyebrows shot almost into his hairline, and he shook his head disgustedly.

"Mmm, it tastes delicious," Cato said, eyeing the goblet greedily. "It makes me feel … I want more."

Snape snatched it hastily back, and said scathingly: "That's enough, Byror, more than enough. Granger, what would I do if a student tasted an unknown brew in class?"

The answer was shockingly easy, and she replied: "They would fail class, and you'd dock points, sir."

"Thank goodness, it's a relief to know _some_ of my colleagues have common sense, even though she's NOT a potioneer," Snape said acerbically, glowering at Byror. "And what do you believe are the contents of this goblet, Byror, considering your _vast_ experience with potions?"

Byror sneered at him, obviously insulted. "A white Elf wine, probably a ten year old Avalon, Snape. Not everyone is as paranoid as you. The war is over, you know."

Snape arched an eyebrow, saying drily: "I know, Byror. I, _unlike others,_ was actually there, remember?" He turned the goblet in his hands, and continued: "This, however, has nothing to do with paranoia, just the fact that I don't find it prudent to lick my fingers to unwittingly taste quite an excellent love potion. If I knew the identity of the student, I'd award them ten points for very solid potion work, before docking a hundred for trying to enchant a teacher."

Byror blanched. "A love potion?"

Hermione felt like laughing, forcing it down as best she could. _Byror had it coming, after such a mindless display. Really, did he think Snape, of all people, would ask him for a second opinion on his wine?_

"Yes," Snape said smugly. "Maybe you'll be able to point out who the brewer is, after tasting it, like the proverbial canary in a mine. Which one of our young, enterprising ladies do you feel an unfounded attraction to, Byror?"

Byror's lips thinned, but he swept his gaze over the student body. After a surprisingly short while, his eyes landed on a pretty, dark-haired Ravenclaw sixth year girl. "That one, with those lovely dark curls, those big, brown misty eyes, the pouty lips, firm breasts and that delicious, little arse…"

"Gods, that's enough, Byror!" Snape exclaimed, looking nauseated. "Have you no self-restraint at all? She's a _student_! You should go to your quarters until it wears off, or brew an antidote. Surely you're are capable to brew that?"

Snape himself swept off the daise, walking to the Ravenclaw table. The girl looked at him with shiny eyes, believing him to be under the potion, but her expression quickly turned to shock, mortification, shame and disappointment. A collective groan from the Ravenclaw table proved that Snape was true to his words, docking points.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Byror slinking out of the Great Hall, but not before casting a look of hatred at Snape. _Never mind, Snape was not one to be intimidated by a little hatred,_ she thought. As Snape returned to the Head table, she gave him a small smile, whispering: "Thanks for pegging down Byror. Listening to his stories can be tiresome."

His mouth quirked, before he said with a serious expression: "It does bother me that what he spouts are nothing but stories. Those potions he described, claiming to have invented, would not work. You just can't mix roseworth with doxy eggs and nettles, and expect it to be an antidote. He was clearly lying through his teeth."

"I know," she sighed, "and I have no idea how to handle a grown man, a colleague, who lies to my face."

Snape gave her a rare, approving nod, and she felt something tugging in her belly, affecting her. She swallowed, and then he said to her: "He wouldn't have resorted to cock and bull-stories, if he wasn't trying to impress _you_. But you're not one to believe in fairytales, are you, Granger?"

"No," she said seriously, but with a twinkle in her eyes: "Not when I've seen the real thing."

Xxxx

Late at night, he was in his bed, awake and staring at the ceiling, _again,_ thinking of Granger, _again,_ cock achingly hard, _again_. A part of him was roaring in enthusiastic silliness: _The real thing, she said! That means you, both as a potioneer and a war hero! She wants you!_

His more rational mind barked: _You fuckwit! She's not interested in old, grizzled Death Eaters, especially as I tortured her friends during my time as Headmaster, and I spent her childhood calling her names._

He groaned in exasperation. _Why, of why, had his mind and body become so obsessed with Granger?_ It was entirely inappropriate, him being who he was and what he had to do, and she being who she was.

The insidious, Slytherin part of him whispered: _Maybe_ _you can convince her to fuck you, she is supposedly spying on you anyway, trying to get close to you. You can have your cake and eat it too._ The best part was that Hogwarts had become slightly less boring after her arrival. Still, he had his own plans to execute, and there were still people he had to provide for. Granger couldn't get in the way of that. _His great duty, his responsibility…_ He needed his weekends clear to take care of the people he had saddled himself with.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, hand grabbing his cock. There would be no sleep before he had released that throbbing ache. _Yes, Granger…_


	6. Public Intrusion

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing! Please tell me what you think._

* * *

 **The Daily Prophet, 4 October:**

 _– The new leader of the Death Eaters must be a well-known, former supporter of You-Know-Who, says Auror sources to the Prophet's reporter Rita Skeeter. – Currently, we have no idea who it might be, but it stands to reason it's a wizard or witch from You-Know-Who's Inner Circle. Someone powerful and able to gather the reins after the loss of their crazy leader. Speculations are rife within the Auror Office, but I'm not at liberty to tell you, the source says, eyes shifty and scared._

* * *

Harry's letter was delivered with the owl post at breakfast. His new, tawny owl, named Fred, gave her an affectionate nip, before it took off with her toast. _So, Harry had written his answer at home, not while at work in the Ministry._ Hermione smiled to herself. _Chances were the letter would hold classified information, then, things he wouldn't want to write while at work._ Looking surreptitiously around her, she made sure no one would be able to see the letter as she read it.

 _Dear Hermione, I have to say, I was surprised, shocked and saddened by your letter. Poor Madam Pomfrey, this is so horrible! No one has told me or Ron about this, so I went to ask Kingsley himself, saying I had heard a rumour from a source at St. Mungo's. Kingsley confirmed it, and he seemed surprised I had found out. But mark my words, Hermione, he was pleased too to learn that people had started talking about this incident. As you know, he's not at all happy with the secrecy Robards and Croaker are enforcing concerning the attacks. He let it slip, that maybe it would be better if the public knew about this, so people could take care. I said I'd let my source know… Do what you will with this, Hermione, but you know I can't talk to anyone outside the Ministry. I hope to see you soon!_

 _\- H_

She furrowed her brow. If both McGonagall, as Head of the now dormant Order, and Kingsley, as Head of the Auror Office, wanted her to tell the media, she would have to do that, notwithstanding what Poppy would want for herself. _Yes, she'd tip off Skeeter, telling her to check out the Janus Thickey ward for a victim of a secret attack._ However, she would not let Skeeter blow her identity as the source of information _._ To openly admit to be the leak, would put McGonagall in trouble with the Ministry, for not enforcing a total silence from the staff.

Xxxx

Hermione had showed up at the appointed time in his office, and he was true to his word. The coffee proved to be _delicious_. Hot, strong, with rich flavours, beans perfectly roasted, and of course, the brewing was immaculate. _She had expected no less from a Master Potioneer, though._

The smell of freshly ground beans and the slow dripping of the coffee into the glass container made her feel calm and relaxed. He had brewed it by hand, weighing up the coffee meticulously, just like he would with potion ingredients, and had slowly poured the boiling water over the filter, letting it drip slowly. His office, however, was just as creepy as ever, even though the sun was shining outside.

"Mmmmh," she groaned, burying her nose in the steaming cup. "No wonder I've never seen you drink coffee before. After this, everything else will be stale, bland and tasteless. Do you always make coffee before classes?"

His mouth quirked a little, and he drawled: "Yes, every day. The House-elves do a decent tea for breakfast, but they have no concept of what coffee should be like whatsoever. I roast the beans myself, twice a week, to get it just right."

Her sigh of pleasure as she took a sip seemed to be enough of a response. Gathering herself, she asked: "What's the plan for the lesson?".

"Shielding and shield breaking techniques," he said curtly. "Even though you are to observe for the next two weeks, I expect you to join me in practical demonstrations."

She nodded, her mind deep into the wondrous smells of the coffee. "What kind of techniques did you have in mind for today?" she said, almost dreamily.

His mouth tugged a little at the corners, and he said: "The _Vir Mulier Scuto_."

Frowning, she looked up from her lovely coffee. "The _Vir Mulier Scuto?_ Isn't that considered having no practical purpose at all?"

He shrugged, still with that faint smile. "I wouldn't say that. The wizard behind the theory did a very thorough study, and he was extremely interested in practical appliance of magical theory. He didn't, however, share the recommended practical appliance with the public."

Blinking a little, she said slowly, suspiciously: "I'm not sure I am familiar with the origins of this theory. Who was this wizard?"

He sipped his coffee, eyes closing in bliss for a moment, before he looked straight at her. "The Dark Lord. And I can assure you that this theory has its merits. To apply it may just save your life."

She shivered slightly. _Teaching a theory originating with Voldemort – did that make the theory dark in itself? Or was the theory to be considered neutral?_ She did only know rudiments of it, having never seen or practiced it.

After finishing their coffee, they entered the classroom. They waited in silence, but as Snape raised his wand to unlock the door, she couldn't help asking with a small smile: "Aren't you going to enter the room with a bang?"

"Not this time," he said, giving her a fleeting, slightly amused look. "You tagging along behind me would ruin the effect, I presume."

Instead, he slammed the door open with his magic, making the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs standing outside the door jump in fright. Slowly, they filed in, without chattering. Hermione noted that this seventh year class was just as quiet, just as scared of Snape as she remembered from her own schooling before the war. Obviously, he hadn't changed much.

"Apprentice Granger will be joining us for the next month", he said, giving the class his usual, fierce glare. "She'll be assisting me for the next two weeks, before running this class for two weeks after that. You will, all of you, treat her like you would any other teacher."

The class nodded attentively, not saying a word, some of them giving her a guarded look. _That would be,_ she realized, _the friends of those boys she had given detentions._

"We'll cover the _Vir Mulier Scuto_ today," Snape said sternly to the class. "Don't bother with your books, because this won't be in it. To know the best way to break the shield of a wizard or a witch is a technique that may give you the upper hand in a duel. This theory, because it isn't a spell in itself, just a guideline to attacking, states that the shields formed by witches and wizards are fundamentally different. Therefore, you'll need to shape your spells differently to gain the full effect of attacking a shield."

He paused for a moment, black eyes glittering strangely as he looked at Hermione, and continued: "Some say that this way of attacking is sexual in nature. In a way it is, and I expect adolescents such as you to be giggling and blushing by this. But, and I can't stress this enough, to apply this theory to dueling is a lifesaver. Pair up, boys and girls. In the beginning, it makes the most sense to attack and defend against the other sex."

Hermione frowned. _Sexual in nature?_ _What did he mean? She already knew that the shields were supposed to form differently, but had never read that this should affect the way you attacked your opponent. That must be the part Voldemort had kept for himself. And,_ she realized, for _his Inner Circle._

"Everyone watch!" Snape barked, turning to Hermione. "Apprentice Granger, would you raise a shield? Use a standard _Protego,_ but modify the spell like this: _Protego Colores."_

She raised her shield wandlessly and wordlessly, realizing that she was unconsciously showing off. _To the students,_ she reasoned hurriedly, _not to Snape._ She wasn't sure he'd see it that way, though, because he arched an eyebrow at her. The students gasped. Startled, she noticed that she could _see_ her shield. It was a light, pinkish colour.

"The colouring is just for training purposes," Snape drawled. "I would advice you strongly against colouring it during a duel. You'll also notice, that each of you will get different colours by nature, unwittingly. Now raise your shields, using the _Protego Colores._ "

The class room suddenly looked like a rainbow, as the students' shields erupted in all shades of green, red, blue, yellow, brown, purple, grey, orange and pink. Hermione looked at the awed, smiling faces, and thought: _Maybe this won't be so bad. This is rather beautiful._

Turning to Snape, she was not surprised to see that his shield was his usual, unrelenting black.

"Enough, drop your shields!" Snape barked. "Now, pay close attention."

He turned to her, and said, his voice silkily, his eyes almost a little hungry as he looked at her: "I apologize in advance, Granger, if this will feel a little … invading. Please raise your shield again."

Stepping up to her, he looked up and down her newly formed, pink shield, and somehow, she felt his gaze so intimately that it made goosebumps break out on her flesh. "If you look closely," Snape said, "You'll see that in the center, in the _core_ of Granger's shield, there's a seam."

He pointed his wand at her, highlighting a slightly ridged slit on her shield, puckering a little, just like soft, pink, petaled lips. The students gasped, and some sniggered before suddenly clasping their mouth. Hermione was mortified. _No wonder he had said invading. It certainly looked like a vagina. And now, she felt like all the class was gawking at her most intimate body part._

Stonily, she stared at him, fighting to not let her embarrassment show. He gave her a faint smirk, but his eyes were still dark and strangely hooded. "This … _structure_ … is how a shield will form when a witch is the caster. It's involuntarily, unavoidable and perfectly natural. As you can see, it makes the perfect point of attack. If I were to force my way inside Granger's shield, I would do wisely to shape my spell into beams. Preferably rather narrow, round, pointed ones that can slide easily inside between those lips." Arching his eyebrow at the class, he drawled: "To put it bluntly, shape it like a cock."

Her lips thinned. _How dare he! At least, he could have prepared her in advance!_ The students stared wide-eyed at them, and some of those horny, little bastards licked their lips slowly as they looked at her. No-one dared to snicker, though.

"Let me demonstrate," he said, voice even more silky, as he drew his wand, slowly shaping a thick, long, dark member, pointing straight at her. Suddenly thrusting it violently at her with a jab of his wand, she flinched as it passed the seam of her shield, entering inside easily.

With a flick of his wand, he stopped the beam from moving further towards her, making it stay, pulsing, inside her now invaded shield. Their eyes met, and she felt as if time had suspended itself. Drowning in his black eyes as they darkened even further with something she was afraid to name, she felt slightly dizzy. Parting her lips unconsciously, she wet them with the tip of her tongue, and she felt a sudden urge to slowly, lasciviously rub her thighs together to appease the slow, simmering fire burning between her legs. Her nipples grew taut, and she could see him take in the sight of her, as his chest expanded with a deep breath.

Blinking, he dropped the eye-contact, and barked at the class: "Girls, you'll now raise your shields again, and boys, you'll attempt to enter. Do not use any dangerous spells, a _Lumos Trabem_ will suffice."

Suddenly, she was angry, furious at the invasion, raging at him for letting that connection which made her feel so good drop like that. Squinting at him, she dropped her shield, turning to retreat to her desk in the corner of the classroom.

"Come, Granger," he said arrogantly, "join me as we inspect their attempts." Silently snarling, she obediently followed in his wake, as he swooped through the class, criticizing harshly as he was wont to do. Horrified, she realized that he was even worse than she remembered. The boys were ridiculed if their beam wasn't strong enough, or "big enough" and "hard enough" as he coined it in his commentary, and the girls were equally taunted if he thought their shield wasn't sufficiently strong. Or, in his words, the girls were "too easy on the boys", "weak pushovers allowing the boys too much freedom", "not being able to keep the seams of their shields together". Hermione felt as if her cheeks were burning, matching the red faces of their students. _Sweet Morgana, she would have literally died if Snape had delivered sexual innuendos throughout class when she was still at school._

After a while, he stopped the practicing, and asked the class: "Can any of you offer a theory as to what a witch could do to minimize the risk to her shield?"

The class was silent, no one raising their hand. Without looking at her, he said: "Granger. I'm sure you have a theory or two."

She fumed in outraged silence for a moment. _The man had never asked her anything of his own volition when she was in his class, and now, of a sudden, he decided to make her theorizing on the spot?_

Despite her irritation and embarrassment, knowledge was knowledge, and she was very much intrigued by the possibilities in this theory.

"I would say, what first comes to mind would be a double shield, making sure the seams are not aligned. It would, however, be too taxing to keep up a double shield in a duel. The second idea would be, as the shield normally is invisible, to rotate it, making the seams in a different place than expected. Even better would, perhaps, be to make the shield rotate continuously. Then it would be virtually impossible to find the … seam." She stopped short, catching a quick, impressed look in Snape's black eyes.

"Excellent," he breathed, while nodding to his class. "A rotating shield would be a very effective solution, almost nullifying the effects of the shield's formation. Miss Granger was spot on, finding the exact same solution as the wizard whom this theory originated with."

She blinked in surprise, and Snape, that _infuriating_ man, smirked at her, saying: "Great minds think alike, or what, Miss Granger?"

Her blood pounded furiously in her veins, and she thought she might blow an artery or several blood vessels. _Morgana's tits, he did not just compare her to Voldemort?! How dared he!_

Snape, however, continued unruffled: "We'll practice this in the next class. Now, I'd like Miss Granger to demonstrate how to break the shield of a wizard."

He raised his black shield, and then she thought she could see a faint flush on his sallow face, barely noticeable. "I expect you see the point of attack," he said drily, as the students goggled at him.

And, in his front, there it was, a rather large knob with a tiny slit on the top. _Merlin,_ she thought, _it looks exactly like a dickhead._ Feeling almost as embarrassed as when he had pointed out the features of her own shield, she grasped her wand in sweaty hands, still shaking with anger.

"You'll find that the best way to break the shield of a wizard is to shape your attack like you would in real life. Give him a good, strong kick right at it," he said. "A notable difference is that a man's shield will disintegrate on the spot, while you can cast _inside_ a woman's shield after you have pierced it."

Hermione blinked, and swallowed a chuckle. _She was about to kick Snape's balls. Almost literally. Oh, how Ron and Harry would have loved this!_

"Which spell would you recommend?" she asked him blithely.

Arching an eyebrow, looking supremely arrogant, he said: "I'm sure you'll think of something, Granger."

 _Merlin. He expected her to fail, she just knew it. The bastard._ Gathering her magic, she opted for blunt force and shot a blindingly " _Expulso!"_ right at him. He winced, and sure enough, his shield disintegrated.

Smiling serenely in deep satisfaction, she waited to see his reaction, but he gave her a perfunctory bow. "Thank you, Granger, for the excellent demonstration. Now, the wizards will raise the shields, while the witches try to break it. Remember, do not use any _too_ dangerous spells."

For the rest of the class, she tagged along with him, correcting the spellwork of the students. When the bell rang, the students started to chatter and giggle as they walked out of the classroom, looking both embarrassed and very relieved to be leaving their Defense class.

She waited for the last one to leave, before she turned to him, hands on her hips. "I would have liked a warning on this subject," she said, trying to muster all her bravery to face the Slytherin Head.

He had the audacity to smirk at her once again, and said: "And spoil such a wonderful surprise? Actually," his face became serious, "I rather thought you'd be happy to not know, or else you would have been nervous." He lifted a hand, seeing her scowl settling on her face, and continued: "I have to thank you for this lesson, though. I've never taught this in a class before, because really, I can't drag a seventh year schoolgirl up here to perform this with me. It would be … inappropriate."

She chewed on her lip, silently agreeing with him. _Any student would have died of shame._ Then she said, deciding to be adult and brave to face up to her own reactions: "I still feel that it was bordering on very inappropriate." Not looking at him, feeling the flush raise in her cheeks, she said softly: "It was almost like you … touched me sexually, _taking me,_ in front of everyone."

She could have been mistaken, but she thought his breath hitched. He looked straight ahead, somewhere over the top of her head, and said, equally soft: "In a way I did, I told you it was sexual in nature. I apologize for causing you embarrassment, but I still think this was a useful lesson for the students."

She nodded, still flushing. _Morgana, he admitted it. This wasn't just about dueling, it was intimate too. Severus Snape as good as penetrated me, using his magic. He shoved a part of him inside a part of me._ Clearing her throat, banishing all thoughts even remotely reminding her of sex, she said: "I think so too, and you're right, this might save one's life. But still, I'd like a warning, if you're going to do anything like this again while I train under you."

Xxxx

When she showed up in his office the next morning for coffee, he felt a brief flash of relief. He hadn't driven her away, scared her with the display yesterday. The silence was a bit awkward, though, so he thrust the newest edition of _Potions Quarterly_ into her hand. She sat down in her usual chair, leafing through the publication until she found an article of interest, and then it happened again, what was quickly becoming his favorite moment of the day.

Granger leaned back into her chair, hands clutching her mug, and she inhaled the coffee with closed eyes, an expression of bliss spreading on her face. He watched in rapt attention, wondering if this was how she looked after her orgasms. _She was so beautiful, looking so delightfully content, so satisfied…_ And then she opened her eyes, giving him that languorous smile, and she said: "Excellent, sir."

 _Oh yes, this was fuel for his fantasies alright._

Xxxx

And finally, Harry had time for her. She was hurrying through the castle, on her way to Hogsmeade, when the corridor became clogged by milling students. "Move over," she said irritated and bossily, and a fifth year Hufflepuff squeaked, looking frightened.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger," the sixth year prefect for Slytherin, Miranda Flint, said.

Hermione glared at her, remembering her nasty, big brother Marcus Flint, but nodded impatiently at her. "Go on, I haven't got all day, Miss Flint."

Miranda Flint blinked, and said hurriedly: "The moving staircase is stuck, it's hanging halfway between landings in the air. I've alerted the Headmistress, Miss Granger."

Hermione groaned. _Gods, she would be late for her meeting with Harry._ She brightened though, when she heard the quick, sure steps of Minerva just behind her.

"What is the matter?" the Headmistress inquired as she neared the throng of students.

"The stair is stuck, Headmistress," the Slytherin prefect said dutifully. "I called on you to set it right."

Hermione thought that Minerva blanched slightly, and then her eyes narrowed. She walked slowly to the edge of the landing, and Hermione followed close behind. The stairs were indeed hanging suspended in the air, and three second year Ravenclaw boys were sitting morosely in the middle of the stairs, hands around their scabby knees.

"Well," Minerva said slowly, "I might need to fix this from my office, it's a part of the wards, you see." She didn't meet Hermione's eyes, and continued stiffly: "Would you stay here to make sure the students are taken care of, Hermione?"

"Of course," Hermione said, and as the Headmistress retreated, she sent out her Patronus to Harry with the message that she was running late. The students around her were whispering excitedly by the sight of her gamboling, silvery otter, and she caught snatches of mutterings: "See how powerful she is? That's a corporeal Patronus! Isn't that amazing?"

She had waited for about ten minutes, when Snape came along. He stopped by her at the edge, and drawled: "Whatever is the matter? Is the stair stuck?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, "Minerva went back to her office to take care of it."

"Very well, she'll soon be finished, I expect," he said, frowning a little at the offending stair. Suddenly, it started moving again, and there was a sigh of relief from the students around her. She was almost _sure_ she had felt a whisper of magic from him, but that could clearly not be the case. It had to be McGonagall's spell. _It was strange, though, she couldn't remember the castle acting up like this under Dumbledore._

One Gryffindor fourth year shouted: "Go McGonagall!" Standing beside her, Snape seemed to be amused, but she didn't have time for him, she had to hurry to get to Harry.

Xxxx

Severus stared at her retreating form. Her hips swayed, and her feet were quick. He had glimpsed her cleavage again, when she stood beside him, and he so wanted to palm her breasts. _Did she know how tempting she was? It seemed like she wasn't aware, but clearly, she had to know._ She was obviously going somewhere, and he spied from the window on the third floor that she was almost running to the gates, disappearing in the direction of Hogsmeade. _Maybe she was meeting someone. Maybe she had a date?_

He sighed, turning away. His lips twitched a little by the thought of Minerva's predicament, but her solution was elegant: Removing herself from the scene, and sending him a message by Patronus to go and fix the stairs. Like he had guessed, the castle was merely mischievous today, and a simple push had been enough to get the stair moving again. But there was no way Minerva could know that, as she had no means to communicate with the castle. _He should, in hindsight, never have stepped down as Headmaster. It would have been better than boring himself to death, though, at the moment, things were coming along nicely._ Severus wondered how he could have overlooked his own nature, his very _Slytheriness_ , when he had refused the post as Headmaster last year. It stood to reason that a wizard like himself, a consummate Slytherin, should _not_ have stepped down from power. Power, politicking and manoeuvring was after all second nature to him after a lifetime of war. And now, he had given himself another, impossible task. _He sighed, knowing that this would be difficult – though fun, as it appealed to his darker side._

Xxxx

They were meeting in the Three Broomsticks, and everyone, literally everyone, goggled at them. _The Saviour of the Wizarding World and the Gryffindor Princess._ Oh yes, Hermione could hear the mumblings.

"Lovely," Harry sighed, wiping foam from his mouth after chugging half a bottle of Butterbeer. "No one makes Butterbeer like Rosmerta."

"True," she agreed, nipping at her bottle. Harry looked just like himself, hair impossibly untidy, glasses on his nose and green eyes shining. But, she rather thought, he had gained weight, looking more buff than before.

"How is everyone?" she asked, carefully.

His eyes became soft, and he flicked a _Muffiliato_ around them for protection. "Err, well, about that," he said hesitantly. "I have a message to you from Ginny and George. They want you to know that they're not mad at you for the break-up, but they need to keep away for the time being. Ron's still very angry, you know."

"Oh," she said, lightening up. "Does that mean they'll still be friends with me?" _Oh gods, I still have friends, people doesn't hate me for breaking up!_ She was so relieved, it was almost silly, she might even start to cry.

"Mmh," Harry said, taking a swig from his bottle. "Staying low, that is. They don't want to antagonize Ron and… well…"

"I see," she said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. "It's Molly, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Harry said, looking uncomfortable. "She's very mad at you, Hermione, you know how protective she gets. Arthur, I think, doesn't mind, but he'll do what Molly tells him."

"Yes," she said, not surprised at all.

"And," Harry continued, looking embarrassed, "Ginny and George ask you to forgo Christmas presents this year. They're afraid Ron or Molly might see the presents. We're just hoping Ron calms down soon."

"How are things at the office?" she asked, and Harry's expression became shifty.

"Bad, Hermione, it's really bad. Kingsley is almost exploding with frustration, Robards enforces the Minister's commands, if they indeed _are_ the Minister's commands, and Merlin help me, Hermione, the Minister himself suspects the whole Department for sabotaging the investigations. He's told me personally, because he believes I'm the only one who can be trusted, because it's too unlikely that I would support the Death Eaters."

"Merlin," she whispered, eyes big and scared. "The Minister suspects Kingsley and Robards? And Kingsley suspects both Robards and the Minister? Who do you believe in, Harry?"

He shrugged helplessly. "For the moment, I believe in myself, you and Ron. And that's about it."

As she drained her bottle, their table was overrun by several young witches, clamoring for Harry's attention. Sighing, Hermione realized that there would be no more talking in private this night. Bitterly, she also noted that there were no young wizards swarming to meet _her_.


	7. Halloween

_**A/N:** Thanks for reading, favoriting, reviewing and following! _

_To the guest reviewer Lynn, I would like to say thanks for pointing out that the mood is a little too carefree for such bad things to happen. I meant for Hogwarts to seem like a safe haven in a world growing dark (again), but I totally get the point: Hogwarts aren't that removed from the rest of the world. And to the guest reviewer without a name: This most definitively will be a romance, though it is a slow burn._

* * *

 ** _The Daily Prophet, 20 October_**

 _– Raped, beaten and tortured: Learn about the horrors everyone's favorite matron went through at the hands of the Death Eaters, Rita Skeeter writes. In an exclusive interview, Hogwarts matron Poppy Pomfrey tells for the first time what happened to her in the hands of the Death Eaters. – I will never be myself again, says the tearstricken witch, as her Healer in charge kindly pats her hand._

* * *

At the staff meeting, Severus tried to zone out as Minerva's voice droned on. _What was it with these meetings that always made him so very sleepy, and so incredibly bored? This morning, not even imagining Granger's tits could keep him alert._ Suddenly, his ears perked up. Minerva was finally talking about security. He had pestered her to enforce new rules, but she had been loath to do it, dreading that it would scare the children:

"New measures must be taken," the Headmistress said, peering at them over the glasses on her nose. "I know you all are careful and vigilant, but I still feel uneasy. From today, we'll go double patrols, and not a word to the students, mind you! Let them enjoy life, believing that the world is a safe place, let them feel secure and happy at Hogwarts. Whenever you move outside the grounds, be very careful. Apparate or fly, don't walk alone to the Three Broomsticks. Next Hogsmeade weekend, you will all be there to chaperone, and even sixth and seventh year students will move in groups only, accompanied by a teacher."

"What about the castle wards, Minerva?" Filius asked, perching on the top of his usual pile of pillows. His face was very serious, set in a grim expression, his bushy eyebrows drooping.

Minerva faltered a little, shooting a quick look at Severus. Instantly, he was in her mind, whispering through the Legilimens connection: " _The castle wards are heightened to their maximum. There hasn't been such a level of security since the war. I am considering adding new wards to detect malicious intent, the only thing keeping me from it, is that it would invariably detect students hexing each other in their squabbles. It is very difficult to layer it just so that only real attacks are registrered."_

Minerva dutifully repeated his words verbatim, and he nodded slightly at her grateful look.

Miss Granger, of course, wasn't satisfied with the response. Her pretty brow furrowed, and she asked: "Wouldn't it be possible to exclude the students from the wards?"

Minerva blinked, and said slowly: "Well, I suppose so…"  
 _No, this wouldn't do,_ he thought, and said out loud: "If I may, Headmistress." Addressing Granger, he said coolly: "And just how would that help us, Miss Granger, if the perpetrator was a student? Surely you remember students attacking each other, doing dark magic, sneaking in and out of the castle. We'll want to monitor that, too."

She pursed her lips, chastised, before she asked once again: "Are all the secret passageways blocked?"

"Of course," Minerva said, "Mr. Potter was most gracious in letting us use that magical map of his. Every, single entrance is blocked and magically warded."

A small, mischievous smile played on Granger's lips, as she mumbled: "Such a shame for the students, then."

He rolled his eyes, realizing that she still was a rule-breaking, adventurous, little Gryffindor at heart, though she was now passing herself off as an adult, responsible Apprentice. Somehow, that heartened him a little.

Xxxx

"Come on, Rolanda, this is good stuff. Try to relax, think about something nice, for a while." Minerva stretched legs out, feeling every ache in her creaking joints. The two witches were sitting in Minerva's office. The room looked considerably different than it had during the days of Dumbledore and Snape. For one, it was filled with heavily ornamented, Scottish oaken bookcases, made by masters of the craft. Swirling patterns of leaves, vines and buds and flowers were carved onto all surfaces of the furniture. All Dumbledore's spindly instruments were gone, and Snape's heavy tomes of dark magic had once again been relocated to his dungeon quarters. The tartan patterns on the sofa gave off a decidedly Scottish vibe, with soft cushions in matching patterns. Minerva just loved it. _It looked so much better now, like home._

There was, however, nothing soft about the whisky Minerva was serving her friend and colleague. Her brother had just sent her a case from the new batch, and Minerva was pleased with the way his brewing had improved.

The eyes of the flying instructor watered, as she downed the Firewhisky. "Strong…" she coughed, getting a few rough slaps on the back from her boss.

"Damn right you are, cask strength," Minerva said more cheerily than she felt. "Nothing like that weak, watered Ogden's. This is how a proper Scottish Firewhisky should be!"

Rolanda nodded, trying to blink back her tears.

"Now," Minerva said, "I'd like your input on the Halloween matching. We need some fun, even though the times are as bleak as ever."

Rolanda grinned. This was one of their favorite, clandestine meetings, where the two witches matched their colleagues with "dates" for the official school feasts. This time, it would be one of the highlights of the year, namely the Halloween feast. The two witches were running bets on who would actually snog – of course, preferably at the teachers' after party, after all the students were chased off to bed.

"Aurora and our new Transfiguration hunk," Rolanda began. "They hit it off in Hogsmeade last staff outing. Snogging is almost guaranteed."

"Very good," Minerva said approvingly, "but that doesn't make for an exciting bet for me, as the odds are low in your favour. What about… them kissing in public?"

Rolanda nodded happily, and Minerva continued: "I was thinking Septima and Cato Byror. Admittedly, she's twenty-six years older than him, but I still think they'd be a fine match."

"Mmm," Rolanda said, looking skeptic. "I'm not sure if they would be all that pleased, but who knows? That's what betting is for, I suppose." Her grin was mischievous, as she added: "And they both need to get laid, I'd say."

"Right you are, so do we all. I'll go with Filius as usual, and you'll take Pomona, I suppose?"

"Yes. And Sybil and Hagrid this year, because not all of us _deserve_ to get laid?" Rolanda grinned even more widely, and Minerva snickered, nodding.

"Poor Hagrid, I wonder if Sybil will come on to him? At one point, he should ask Madame Maxime to visit us on a feast. That would be lovely. And oh, our little Gryffindor Princess needs a man," Minerva said. "It has to be our strapping, young Francis."

Rolanda frowned. "No, she doesn't like him, while he likes her far too much."

"What?" Minerva said incredulously. "What did he do? If not him, we'll have to redo, pairing her with Cato, or we'll have to give her Severus."

"Yes! Good one!" Rolanda shouted with glee. "He'll be ever so angry, and she'll be embarrassed, but I bet that sparks will fly to a greater degree than between Hermione and Francis!"

"Severus and Hermione it is," Minerva smirked. "He might like to talk to her, but I bet ten galleons that there will be absolutely no snogging. And, then it's Bathsheda and Francis, then. You know what? I think I'll look forward to this Halloween."

"Deal," Rolanda said, clinking her glass to Minerva's. "But I want to extend the bet on Severus and Hermione. I think there's possibilities. Twenty galleons to them shagging like rabbits before summer."

Xxxx

As she entered his office after breakfast, he said curtly with a nod: "Your coffee is waiting for you. Good luck with your lesson, Granger. I will be watching you very closely."

Sipping at the delicious, freshly brewed coffee, she offered with a hesitant smile: "Thank you, sir."

Looking at her, he obviously detected her uneasiness. "Look, Granger, I won't step in unless you make a serious mistake. This is your class, today. After what I've heard about you handling the Arithmancy class, I'm sure you'll be adequate."

Staring at him, she wondered: _Did he just offer comfort and a compliment?_

Noting her surprise, he merely shrugged and said: "It's time, Granger. I'll sit in the back, catching up on my marking. The seventh years are your responsibility today," he said, giving her a formal nod, moving to enter the classroom from the back.

Squaring her shoulders, she followed him. _She was just as nervous for teaching as she was the first time with the Arithmancy class, but this time, she knew that she could handle the students. She was much more concerned with the tall, dark shadow in the corner._

Standing at the front, she gave Snape a small, nervous smile, before opening the doors for the students with a crash, just like he used to do. In return, she got an amused glance, before he again looked down at his essays.

The students filed quickly in, just as silent like they normally were in his classes.

"Send your essays to Professor Snape," she said calmly, and added: "nonverbal. Do remain seated.". Most essays sailed nicely over to the Professor's desk, but four of the students had trouble with the nonverbal spell. "Five points to each of you from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin," she said quietly. "A ten inch essay on possible reasons for your failure to perform nonverbal magic, with a list of suggestions on how you can improve, to be delivered tomorrow, Misters Prewett, MacGregor, Owen and Miss Morgenstern."

"Miss Granger!" Prewett's arm shot up, the big, burly bloke with curly, blonde hair looking at her with shock. "Tonight is the only night for Gryffindor Quidditch practice before the match on Saturday!"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Snape lift his head, looking at her with interest. _Did he expect her to favour Gryffindor like he had favorited the Slytherins? He'd be sorely disappointed._

"It doesn't matter to me when you finish the essay, Mr. Prewett, as long as you deliver it on time," she said with a grim smile. "After all, you have all night after the practice to write your essay."

"But, Miss Granger, surely you, as a Gryffindor understand…!" he protested, before she interrupted him, eyes flashing. Her "inner Snape", as she called the disciplinarian voice in her head when chastising students, was chanting enthusiastically: _Dock points! Make that smug, little bastard pay for expecting favoritism from you!_

"Enough, Mr. Prewett. Another five points from Gryffindor. Do not test my patience further." Her voice rang out in the room, sure, decisive and clear.

The boy stilled, looking at her with a sullen expression. Snape, on the other hand, was somehow, impossibly _smiling_ to himself in his corner. _Merlin, the man **never** smiled!_

Irritated, she continued her lesson. "Today, we're going to work on Protean Charms as well as attacks and defense. The Charm is useful for simple, secret communication, and you'll practice setting up a small network of objects. Get together, five of you in each group. One of you will observe, and you'll pair up in the group to attack and defend yourself, using the wordless hexes your partner suggests through the Protean Charm. Let's get started, I want you to charm your notebooks like this…"

xxxx

Rita Skeeter was having Sunday lunch at her favourite Diagon haunt, the _Happy Clabbert_. She was, as always, sitting at her favourite table. Feeling a slight hangover from last night, she wondered if any of her sources would visit her table today. _Everyone_ knew Skeeter took her lunch here, and usually, someone came by with snippets of gossip or rumours, if not downright facts. Her favourite photographer, Malvin Fawley, was complaining at the rising beer prices in this place, but she had ordered the same as always: A bottle of Uffington white and a small salad with anchovies and eggs.

"Fourteen Sickles for a pint, Rita! They're trying to skin us alive, this is outrageous. Why do you insist on going here? It's damned expensive, that's what it is!"

The truth was, she enjoyed the food and the more refined atmosphere, as opposed to the more raucous Leaky Cauldron. She smiled at Malvin, not really listening, as he always complained about something. Rita supposed, it was in his nature. He'd never be satisfied, except when his pictures made the front page. She could relate to that, though. Leaning back into her comfortable chair, she admired the see-through bottle of white wine, with the white, engraved horse running wild around the surface of the bottle. Idly, she speculated if her source in the Poppy Pomfrey case would step forward with more news. _It was very valuable to have a good source at St. Mungo's, as the Healers were notoriously tight lipped – if indeed her anonymous source belonged to the hospital._

Suddenly, something very heavy and large crashed down on top of their the table, and both Rita and Malvin yelled in shock. The thing didn't move, and a blue light flickered out quickly on top of it, indicating a Port-key.

 _It was a body. A very dead, mangled one, someone who had been through a heavy fight or torture._ The arms were contorted into odd shapes, the legs even more, and a foot was missing, leaving a bloody stump, white bone showing, sticking out at an angle. The face was drawn into a rictus grin, and a bloody eyeball rolled out of its socket towards Rita's plate, hanging on to a sliver of flesh, and she quickly scrambled backwards. _She knew this man. It was Antonin Dolohov._

Leaning forward again, she saw he had a note pinned to his chest. It said: _I have paid for my sins in full._

People were screaming around them, but as she met the eyes of her photographer, they shared a moment. _This,_ Rita thought, _this will be the story of the year. And it's all mine._

Xxxx

Monday at breakfast, the Great Hall was quiet, until the _Prophet_ was delivered by the owl post. Students and teachers alike yelled in shock by seeing the front-page, and some staggered from the table, looking green and nauseous, heaving for breath.

She stared at the gruesome picture of a dead Dolohov, lying, of all things, on a white tablecloth in a _restaurant_ , for crying out loud. The headlines read: "Who Killed Dolohov? Ministry Bewildered" and "His Corpse Was Delivered by an Un-authorized Port-key to Star Reporter Skeeter: Full details inside". Hermione shivered a little, one hand raising to touch the outline of her scar from the Department of Mysteries. It was still a raised line of scarring slashed across her chest, though it was now silvery white, not angry and red anymore.

The staff was babbling around her, but she chose to read quickly through the articles, before folding up her newspaper again. It was clear that Dolohov had been in a vicious fight, ending with him being tortured to death.

"Dreadful taste, that Skeeter woman," Snape drawled beside her, staring at the _Prophet_. "Who would have thought they would put such a picture on the front page, ruining the breakfast for the entire population?"

Hermione huffed. "I'll believe anything from _her._ She's vile." Peeping at him between her lashes, she asked hesitantly: "Did you know Dolohov well?"

He harrumphed, and said: "Much better than I like to think of. He was a filthy swine, the world is much better off without him."

"But who killed him? He was rather powerful, wasn't he?" she asked.

"Probably a scuffle for power," he said callously. "He got in the way of someone more powerful than him, I expect."

Xxxx

The door opened to admit her, and the lovely smell of coffee wafted out in the corridor.

"Hello," she said quietly as she entered, and he nodded at her, presenting her with a mug of coffee. She inhaled the lovely aroma, and sat down in the chair beside his, in front of the fireplace, noting that he seemed to have designated a cup for her. It was a tall, black porcelain mug, with a faint, silvery rose pattern. The mug was beautiful, and surprisingly feminine with a dainty handle, whereas Professor Snape's own was an unrelieved black with a much more crude and stout form.

She smiled with contentment, sipping that delicious coffee. From both taste and smell, it was clear that it was brewed by a master.

He was leafing through a Herbology journal, and she picked up the Transfiguration magazine she had been reading yesterday to finish the article. The silence was companionable, and she realized, in every, single morning she wanted this to go on forever. From the corridor outside, she heard the growing bustle and chatter from the sixth year students arriving for their Potions lesson, and she sighed at the thought of classes starting. As he made to rise from his chair, she said wistfully: "I'd love to sit here reading and drinking coffee, all day."

His mouth quirked a little, and he deadpanned: "If it wasn't for all the students, this school could be bliss."

Chuckling a little, she rose to follow him into the classroom.

Xxxx

Hermione was turning in front of her mirror, satisfied, for once, with her looks. Her dress was a dark, forest green velvet, bringing out the golden strands in her hair, and hugging her curves tight, with off-the-shoulder, long, full sleeves. She felt every inch the Muggle idea of what a sexy witch should look like, with her curls piled on top of her head, and dark, dramatic make-up around her eyes. In the wizarding world, well, all they would say was that she looked _hot._ She stuck her tongue out to her reflection, and the mirror said snidely: "Now, dear, don't get too full of yourself. You might look in a way that makes wizards want to fill you up to the brim, but you're still going to be here for the next five years, remember?"

She blushed, remembering that _dream_ , that impossibly steamy dream she had right before she woke up this morning. _Fill up, oh Merlin, what if he read it from her mind?_ She would die of shame.

 _She had woken up, in the throes of her orgasm, to her horror and surprise gasping "Severus, oh, Professor! Please…" Startled and_ _scared, she had sat up in her bed, sheets tangled and sweaty, trying to remember her dream. He had been naked, with a hot, hard, big cock, pounding into her from behind, one hand snaking underneath to finger her clit. And then, in her dream, they had orgasmed together, him gasping in her ear while his cock pulsed and shot out his load, she writhing and whimpering with pleasure under his hard grip on her hips._

Scoffing at herself for the stupidity of her unconsciousness in conjuring such an impossible idea, she left for the staff room. Well inside, the teachers were milling about, half an hour before the start of the feast. "You look wonderful," Septima beamed at her.

"What happens now?" Hermione said curiously, watching the chattering teachers.

"Minerva tells who's going with who this year," Septima said matter-of-factly. "She and Rolanda copes up some days before, trying to play matchmakers, and we all have to go along with it."

Hermione felt her expression turned to shock as Septima continued drily: "The pairing is decided by their bets on who'll snog who."

"Snogging..?" she said weakly.

"Yes," Septima said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "And sometimes they do hit the mark. The rest of us bets on which pairings they'll choose this year. We've been doing this for ages. They did it under Dumbledore's reign too."

"The rest of you bet on ... ?" She felt stupid, parroting her Mistress' words, but her surprise had overcome her vocabulary.

"Yes. This year, we felt that Aurora and Marius were an obvious choice, so no one bothered with them. You, however, have made the top. But I think it's fairly obvious. What with your friendship, and having known each other for such a long time…"

With horror in her voice, she whimpered: "You think Minerva and Rolanda believe I'll snog _Hagrid?"_

Septima laughed heartily. "No, of course not. Hagrid does have a lady friend, as you know, so he's off limits. He wouldn't dare step a toe out of line, or else Madame Maxime would rain blood and fire on him, making Voldemort look like a kitty."

She slowly exhaled, before furrowing her brow. "Surely you can't be thinking of… I wouldn't say a _friendship,_ exactly…"

She was interrupted by the Headmistress, entering the room with a grinning Rolanda Hooch in tow.

"They've been … celebrating … a little, toasting their matchmaking skills," Septima whispered to her.

Sure enough, both witches had a rosy glow in their cheeks, and their eyes were slightly glassy.

"Are you excited about the feast?" Minerva's voice was slightly slurred, and Rolanda giggled in the background.

A murmur crept through the teaching staff. Hermione noted, that both Hagrid and Professor Snape looked like they'd rather be a thousand miles away. Even though she had looked forward to the feast, she was beginning to doubt if the evening would be any fun. _Merlin's balls, if they paired me up with Francis or Cato, I'll kill them!_ She didn't look forward to a night of dodging unwelcome advances.

She watched Hagrid release a shuddering sigh – a very quiet, polite sigh, considering this was Hagrid, she noted with a stifled laugh – as he was paired up with Trelawney, and Snape looked immensely relieved. Hagrid patiently walked up to the Divination teacher, and _her_ mouth quivered with outrage, but she kept still, too, in respect for the Headmistress' decree. The Transfiguration Professor Marius Gewerryn beamed at Aurora Sinistra as they were paired up, and then suddenly Minerva said, giggling slightly: "And our pretty young apprentice, Hermione, will be paired with none other than our beloved Severus."

Her mouth fell open, and she barely noticed the shock on his face, as Septima crowed close to her: "I won! Filius, Aurora, Batsheda and Pomona, you all owe me five galleons!"

All she could think of was: _oh gods, that dream, that blasted dream… What if he notices? What if he sees it in my mind?_

She was standing still, but he moved towards her, tucking her arm into his. "If you would allow me…", he said. But all she could think of was: _Minerva or Rolanda believe that I would kiss Snape. What parallel world do they live in? He'd hex me into the ground for even thinking it! But Merlin, I've already dreamt it._ She gave him a brief, nervous smile, still shell-shocked.

As the Headmistress finished her announcements, he leaned in to her, black eyes trained on her, murmuring: "I don't know if I should be flattered or shocked that one of those old biddies believe I could stand a chance with a beautiful young witch like you."

As he withdrew with a dangerously attractive half-smile that made her stare at his mouth, she suddenly realized that Severus Snape probably was a very experienced seducer, based on what she had been told of his activities last year. _Oh sweet mother Morgana, they couldn't think that HE wanted to kiss HER?_ Now she felt nothing but skittish, and she felt her hand twitch on his arm. _Get your act together, Hermione! s_ he scolded herself, chasing her nervousness away.

Giving him a bright, but very insincere smile, she said: "I don't see why you would be surprised, after what I've been told about _your_ experience, Professor."

Oddly, he looked slightly uncomfortable, scratching the scar on his neck. "I don't know _what_ you've been told, Granger, but…"

"Just that you're not a stranger to getting lucky, so to speak." Inwardly, she flinched. _I can't believe I've said something like that to Professor Snape! He'll kill me._

"Oh, _that_." His face was slightly flushed, just like he was embarrassed. _Surely not,_ she thought, biting down a nervous giggle. Then he continued, throwing a hard glare at Septima: "Whatever they said, it's an exaggeration, and what I want is not necessary anything near what those … _fans_ want from me, as I'm sure you're well aware of, Granger. Don't tell me you haven't had a rush of young wizards at your doorstep."

She flushed, feeling awkward. _Because she hadn't, had she? The odd proposal from obviously disturbed individuals, a few passes at her on after work drinks in her time at the Ministry, but nothing like Ron and Harry had received – and obviously Snape as well._

"Never mind," she said in a low voice. "It's not like either one of us care about each other's love life, is it? Let's have a nice evening, without thinking about silly bets and such."

He stiffened visibly, straightening his back with an affronted look. "As you wish, Granger," he said curtly.

Xxxx

He had been quiet during the meal, not really knowing what to make of Granger's dismissal. _She_ nattered on, of course, oblivious to his mood as usual. _Probably, she didn't notice the difference_ , he thought bitterly. _He had made an advance, sort of, hadn't he, unlikely as it was. And she had told him in no uncertain terms that she was not interested, and that he shouldn't bother either._ He had never, ever made a pass at a colleague before, and he wasn't sure what to expect from her after the rebuff. She seemed friendly enough, but then she was forced by their superior to be his date for the evening. Whatever Granger felt, the result was clear: _He had made a fool of himself again._

As the music started and the floor was readied for dancing, he saw Heron, that dirty Bubotuber-pus-filled lizard of a pathetic excuse for a Defense teacher, _ogle_ her, taking in those half-bared, luscious tits and that narrow waist. Almost without meaning to, he pulled her in too tight, almost possessively clutching her, and she almost squealed in his arms by surprise as he swept her out on the dance floor. "Oh," she said a little breathlessly, after a short while of dancing, looking up to him with those big, caramel eyes. "I didn't know you were such a good dancer, Professor." Her smile was open and friendly, and she clung to him so deliciously as he glided them across the floor. _Her waist felt so good under his hands, and her soft breasts were pressed into his chest. He would definitively explore that feeling in his fantasies later._

Then she said, face serious: "I realize I was a bit rude earlier. It came out wrong, because you were just being nice to me, and I was stupid enough to presume something else, entirely unfounded. I've thought about it during dinner, and I decided to try to be an adult about my stupidity." She lifted her blushing face to him, caramel eyes deep enough to drown in, and said: "I apologize for my vanity, presuming that you made a pass at me."

His breath hitched, and all his stupid pride, his stubborn, prickly pride that held him aloof and alert at all times, came crashing down, disintegrating by the look in her eyes. _Gods, I could forgive her anything._ _I could…_ But, all he _could_ do, it seemed, was to nod stiffly.

He gathered her even tighter to him, swirling her about the floor. Her dark green dress whirled around them, mingling with his black robe like a small tornado gathering strength. The music stopped, but he was not about to release her, keeping his hold of her and stepping out into the next dance. _She smelt so good. Faint vanilla, freshly ground coffee, a hint of coconut over a whiff of leather-bound books._ Severus was afraid that the next time one of his students made a correct Amortentia, it would smell exactly like her. _And that was just plain wrong, impossible even. He was not supposed to involve himself with anyone, especially not someone like her. What if she found out?_

Xxxx

She had never had a more accomplished dance partner, and she felt as if she was floating through the Great Hall in his arms. Even though she was a mediocre dancer at the best, tonight, she felt like a star. After what seemed like a blink of the eye, though it had to several songs, he stopped, bowing politely at her.

"Granger. Though it is a pleasure dancing with you, I imagine that there are any number of our colleagues that would like the honour." He led her off the floor to the drinks table, and in a corner, she saw Rolanda smirk at her, before she turned to Minerva, making a gesture that screamed "hand over the money". Minerva shook her head, miming quite clearly "not yet". _Oh, Minerva didn't believe they would be kissing. Somehow, she felt relieved that her former Head of House didn't think she'd snog her former Potions Professor._ But she was unnerved when she saw the stares of students, pointing and whispering at them.

Septima walked up to them, a glass of red Elf wine in her hand. She smiled at them, a little mischievously. "I can see you've hit it off," she remarked, with casual pretense. "And I'd say you're rather lucky, Severus. You've had worse on these occasions, haven't you?"

"Well, yes. Dancing with Granger was pleasurable," he said stiffly.

Septima turned to Hermione, and explained: "For years, Minerva and Rolanda used to pair him up with Sybil, you see. It was very funny to watch, and I think Minerva did it for the heck of it."

Snape huffed, excusing himself, stalking off in the direction of Minerva. Septima laughed a little, whispering to Hermione: "You see, Sybil quite fancied Severus, but he's always been appalled by her advances. Later, she gave it up, at least after his Headmaster tenure."

Hermione sometimes felt that she was continuously round-eyed when being told of the interactions of her former teachers, but she nodded politely, before Francis Heron swooped in, asking her to dance. After a minute, she regretted it already, as he had stepped on her toes five times already.

Xxxx

Late in the evening, Minerva realized that Rolanda was absolutely right. Hermione detested Francis Heron, while he tried to pursue her intensively. Shaking her head, she thought to herself: _That won't do._ Beckoning Francis towards her, she led him off in one of the darker corners.

"This is not the way to go about your real job, Francis", she said sternly.

He widened his eyes, trying to look innocent.

"Bah!" she said disgusted, "don't try that look with me. As you know, I'm very much aware that you're the designated Auror guard for Hogwarts. I'm not stupid, it's obvious that this year, you've been ordered to guard Hermione in secret too. This is not the way to go about it, you're merely alienating her."

Francis looked panicky, eyes a little bloodshot and hair disheveled, and he hissed: "No one was supposed to know! Not even her!"

Minerva shrugged. "Your secret is safe with me, but don't keep on antagonizing her. That will make your job more difficult. This is merely friendly advice." She left the Junior Defense teacher fuming for himself in a corner, but her mission was successful. The man left Hermione alone for the remainder of the night. Though, Minerva wondered _again_ how the Auror Office could employ people with so little finesse when it came to covert operations.


	8. Rampant Suspicion

**The Daily Prophet, 1 November:**

Lucius Malfoy tells it all: _Dolohov was my Death Eater Nemesis._

– He was the one who pushed my father into Voldemort's gang at school, says a distraught and dishevelled Lord Malfoy, pushing back his famous silvery mane from his troubled eyes. – I can't help but think of what my life and my family's life would have been like without Antonin Dolohov. So much has been taken from us, so much has been forced upon us.

The tall, blonde wizard breaks off, hiding his eyes behind his hands, and my quill stall, as I breathlessly watch the mighty Malfoy patriarch fight his sobs.

* * *

Feeling refreshed from the Halloween feast after her morning shower _and_ her nightly orgasm, due to another, too-hot dream of Professor Snape, she banished her feelings of shame to the deepest recesses of her mind as she sat down at the breakfast table. Her eyebrow raised in a skeptical expression, she turned to Snape beside her, pointing at the _Prophet_. "Is this _drivel_ really true?"

She clearly saw him hiding a smile, but he slowly shook his head, black hair swinging about him, and he replied drily: "Lucius is a very good actor. But I do think he resented Dolohov, just not ... _quite_ that much."

"Mmh," she said, her mouth filled with toast. She shook her head in disgust as she read the piece, being sure the man was lying through his teeth to the stupid reporter. _Could Lucius Malfoy be the new leader of the dark? And what about Draco?_

Suddenly, she realized she had no idea what Draco did after the war. Glancing at Snape, she wagered another question: "What's Draco Malfoy doing, by the way? I haven't heard anything about him after the Battle."

"He's abroad," Snape said, preoccupied with reading. "He's attending the Complutense University in Madrid, getting a degree in Potions. He'll be a decent Potioneer."

"Oh," she said, pushing her luck, she asked: "What does he need a degree for? Isn't his future job just hanging around the Ministry trying to influence people?"

Snape snorted into his tea, spraying his plate with the fluid. Giving her an exasperated, but amused glance, he said: " _Yes_ , Granger, that's what he'll do when Lucius is too old and decrepit to move about. In the meantime, meaning the next fifty years or so, he might use that brain of his to something useful. Did you know Lucius had a Charms degree from the Humboldt University in Berlin? It's a shame, even though he was brilliant at Charms, he went into the family business early. His father, Abraxas, never really recovered after the Dark Lord's first fall."

She nodded, surprised that he willingly had divulged so much information to her. Then an oddity struck her. She furrowed her brows, drained her cup, and sent the question straight at him with all her bravery: "Professor, why do you still refer to Voldemort as the Dark Lord?"

He grimaced slightly, face closing up, and he said: "It's a habit. I've said that for over twenty years. It's hard to change, though I see why you ask," he said stiffly.

"I'm not implying anything," she said, "I'm just curious." But the conversation between them died out. The staff left for the Monday staff meeting shortly afterwards, and as Hermione entered the room, the sight that met her was very unexpected.

A laughing Filius, a hooting Sybil and a sniggering Septima was standing in front of an obviously embarrassed Batsheda. The Ancient Runes Professor was clearly not happy about being found in the staff room come morning, sleeping half-naked on top of a totally naked Francis Heron.

During the next days, sniggers and looks abounded in the staff room, though everything was kept to a minimum in front of the students. While Batsheda and Francis got the brunt of it, the faculty all agreed that Marius and Aurora hitting off was sweet, and as everyone realized, they were rapidly approaching couple-status. Still, Hermione got her fair share of jokes for dancing with Snape.

Rolanda said slyly: "Did you know dancing is another word for upright intercourse? You certainly seemed to be grinding against each other, so very tightly entwined. Did you have to spell your robes, hiding your front afterwards, Severus?"

Filius laughed, winking his bushy eyebrows at them, saying: "I'm sure Severus would love to give Hermione a very _special_ detention, celebrating she's not a student anymore."

He rose from his chair, looming over the two of them, hands closed to fists, snarling: "This is what I get for following my superior's orders for a night? If I can't dance with Granger in public at a formal ball without being accused of lecherous conduct, I really think that you have too much time on your hands. Maybe you should be more occupied keeping up to date with your subjects, instead of making up brain-dead gossip about your fellow faculty members!"

"Yes, yes," Rolanda said laughingly, "I should bury myself in _Broomsticks Monthly Review_ instead, but I'm a bad, bad witch." But the joking stopped, to Hermione's relief. She sent Snape a grateful look, and he glowered at her in return, like this was _her_ fault in the first place, not a stupid little game originating with the Headmistress and the flying instructor.

The students worried her, as the whispers and avid mutterings seemed to be growing. They pointed out her and Snape, and she heard whispered mutterings where the main theme was that _Snape and Granger had to be a couple – did you see them dancing?_ It made him snort in disgust, and she blushed, feeling embarrassed. Moreover, she felt very uncomfortable by the fact that he was _disgusted._

However, she enjoyed their morning coffee session before classes, though they were mostly taking their coffee in a silence she had come to find companionable. She only hoped he enjoyed it as much as herself. She told herself: _Severus Snape was a man who didn't leave you in the dark regarding his displeasure. He would have told her, if he didn't like it. But maybe it was the other way around – he had trouble expressing his contentment?_

Those students that thought they were a couple had to think that her bravery was bigger than her brains, because she couldn't even contemplate daring to make a move on him. He was not quite as cantankerous as he had been when she was his student, and this autumn had proved that it was possible to hold a conversation with him. But still, that was a far cry from engaging with him romantically. He was still forbidding, irritable and sarcastic. _She rather thought that those witches that propositioned him had to get off on fear._

Xxxx

Again, she woke, gasping into her empty room, this time on the brink of orgasm. _Sweet Morgana_ , _this time her rampant imagination had placed her in Snape's classroom, bent backwards over his desk, her hands tied together over her head, while he pounded into her, black hair swinging with his movements, tickling her hard nipples._

Hermione _knew_ she'd feel awkward in the morning, but she wasn't able to stop her hands from tugging down her sleeping shorts, burying her fingers in her sopping wet folds to stroke her clit over the brink. _Gods, in her dream Severus Snape had tied her up, controlling her to do whatever he pleased, mastering her…_ Her back arched from the mattress, and she came, clenching hard around the finger she thrust deep into herself: "Oh Professor, please, fuck me hard!" she panted, mind continuing her dream-turned-fantasy through her orgasm.

Blushing, she came down from her high, feeling mortified. _She had never entertained thoughts of being dominated before, but this… How could it be? She was strong and independent, how could she get off by thinking about Snape in this way? And gods, what if he found out by using Legilimency on her mind, that she had repeatedly dreamt about sex with him?_

Xxxx

Hermione was patrolling, late at night by the Entrance Hall. Students sneaking off to the kitchens at night usually took the shortest route, which meant straight by her hiding-place behind a great, hulking armour standing guard, becoming easy catches for herself. The evening was dark and windy, with great clouds chasing through the skies. The moon was full, giving off an eerie light into the hall as it dipped in and out of the racing clouds.

She sighed, wishing for her shift to be over, wanting her nice, warm bed instead of the drafty Entrance hall.

Suddenly, the large doors creaked open, and a limping figure entered, hobbling towards the entrance to the dungeons. She almost called out, before the moon again battled free from the clouds, and light fell on his face. _It was Snape, but gods, he looked horrible._ He had several gashes on his face, and his pallid colour told a story of a considerable loss of blood. His injuries clearly stemmed from a fight, or a very vicious duel. Remaining quiet, she held still until after he had disappeared into the dungeons. Slowly, cautiously, she moved forward, and noted that he had left a thin trail of blood. She Vanished it, wondering what on earth he had been up to. She decided to wait it out and keep an eye of things, before contacting Harry again. _Whatever Snape had done, it obviously was no walk in the park._

The next morning, she tagged along with him after breakfast, as he went to prepare their coffee. Noting he _still_ had a limp, she decided to ask.

When she was settled on his sofa, with her mug in her hand, she queried: "What happened to your leg?"

His eyebrows rose, and he said curtly: "I fell."

"Oh," she said, not believing him for a moment. "You … seem to have some new scars," she said quietly, pointing to his chin.

"Cut myself shaving," he responded promptly, not batting an eyelid.

"Really," she said, investing all her disbelief in her answer. Snape just glowered, and slammed his mug on the table.

"Let's prepare the Potions classroom," he snarled at her.

Xxxx

Very few was aware of the fact that Severus Snape kept the most orderly ingredients store in Europe. This was, of course, thanks to the numerous detentions he assigned. Students cleaned, sorted, refilled and labelled all sorts of ingredients, dusted cobwebs, swept the floors and cleaned Potions spills from shelves, cupboards, desks. He barely had to do any work to keep it in shape.

Now, he was glaring at Granger between his shelves, as she bustled around gathering Wormwood, stewed Mandrakes and Ground Unicorn Horns for the class. The seventh years were brewing the Oculus Potion this morning. He supposed she'd be reporting to the Ministry on his injuries, and when recent events came to lights, he's be in the limelight of suspicions. If only Poppy still had been here, she'd heal his leg properly, but it was too difficult to work that kind of magic on himself. _He would have to postpone the discoveries, making a time gap between Granger noticing his injuries and the actual discovery._ Still glowering at her, he could see her searching frenetically for something along the shelves, muttering and shaking her head.

"Sir," she panted as she rounded the corner of the shelves, stopping straight in front of him. "I don't understand, I can't find the Crystalized Water anywhere on the shelves! I checked both W and C, and it's just not there!" Her eyes were big with worry, and he skimmed her thoughts, feeling her slight panic at the thought of them having to change the lesson. He almost snorted, as one clear thought from her overrode everything: _Oh God, I read up on the Oculus, what if he chooses another Potion, and I don't remember the instructions?"_

 _Not bloody likely, Granger_ , he thought, _you could probably sit your exams and getting an O ten years from now without ever thinking of Potions in the meantime._

But then his light, surface Legilimency caught another strong transmission from her: _God, those dreams, he's just as hot in real life. I'm getting so wet by that intimidating stare, I wish he would fuck me hard up against the shelves – Merlin, what are you thinking, girl! What if he catches your thoughts!_ She visibly cringed, blushing slightly in front of him, and lowering her eyes to the stone floor.

Mouth agape, he stared at her. _Did she just want me to …?_ His cock yelled at him: _Go on and do it right away, you moron, if that's what she wants!_

Snapping his lips tight together, he tried to rein in his desire. _Remember, those snotty seventh years will be outside the classroom in seven minutes. You can wait, god damn it, you're almost forty!_

He pinched the bridge of his nose, saying disdainfully, hiding his confusion and lust: "Granger, if you will use that big brain of yours, you would realize that part of the task is to conjure the Crystalized Water. As you should know, it doesn't keep very well, and it is nuisance to get the storing conditions right. I've never bothered with that, as it is so easy to conjure."

She parted her lips, sighing in relief – _or was it something else?_ – and he snorted. "Come on, Granger, get those ingredients into the classroom before they arrive."

Xxxx

 _Aaaah._ The Headmistress settled slowly in her favorite chair in the staff room, her knees literally screaming at her. Who would have thought it took so much out of you, just getting old? Minerva felt the relief as the pain in her kneecaps slowly receded. Closing her eyes briefly, she heard Severus complain – _unusual in itself –_ she thought.

His deep voice rumbled to Hermione: "I don't see what I can do differently. They _know_ they will never be encouraged. But still those little chits do their best to get in detention with me, like I'd ever, ever consider a student in that fashion." She could hear his exasperation clearly in his voice. Silently, she chuckled. _That's what you get for being so strict, Severus,_ she gloated to herself. _All the little girls looking for a dominant male at Hogwarts zoom right in on you. They just can't help themselves._

Then Hermione said: "Schoolgirls crushing on you, that's only natural, I guess".

"Natural!" he snorted with a deep disgust.

"Yes," Hermione said defiantly. "You're a tall, dark, handsome war hero. Of course it's natural. You are the very epitome of a romantic school girl crush."

Minerva sniggered to herself, as Severus' uneasiness became clearly visible. _He wasn't used to handle compliments, wasn't he?_

Instead, he covered his reaction by a smirk: "Are you affected, Granger?"

Hermione blushed, but replied: "I'm not a schoolgirl, sir."

Staring at her for a long time, he replied softly: "Indeed, you are not."

The resulting moment was quiet, intense, and her two employees seemed to be lost in each other's eyes for a long time.

Minerva ostentatiously leafed through her book, but as the silence continued and her sense of their mutual attraction grew, she thought: _What a surprise. Here I thought there was only a budding friendship. Maybe Rolanda was right? I shouldn't have wagered that much on them. Damn._

Xxxx

On a Thursday night, she snuck out alone to go to the Three Broomsticks. Disillusioning herself as she left the castle, she hurried to the Apparition point just outside the gates. She almost blushed by her own intentions, because she had never, ever imagined that she would go out, alone, with the purpose of chatting up a wizard. She determinedly told herself, there was nothing wrong for a witch to try to find a wizard on her own.

It wasn't as if the castle could provide for her in that respect. Either her colleagues were too old, too self-loving and bragging, or too … snarky. She blushed, remembering those dreams about Professor Snape. _Gods, no, he's not interested,_ she had to forget about the heady sensations her dreams created. _And if he had been, sweet Morgana, what then? Would she really dare? No, most definitively not_ , she decided _._ A nice, young, uncomplicated wizard, that's what she needed. _Those dreams were most assuredly a result from her sexual needs. It would be better if she satisfied those desires, wouldn't it? Then the dreams would go away, and she could have a nice, uncomplicated working relationship with Professor Snape._ Turning on the spot, she felt the familiar, uncomfortable squeezing, the crack of Apparition loud in her ears. As always, she wondered if it was the _same_ sound connected through space from a simultaneous departure-and-arrival, or if it indeed were two different cracking noises, one at the departure point and one at the arrival point.

Outside the pub, she stopped, unravelling her Disillusionment. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. _Relax, Hermione,_ she thought. _People do this all the time. Try to look like you're here to grab a beer, taking a short break from the stress of your studies. Don't look like you're so desperate. Oh Merlin, will anyone recognize me?_ Stopping short for a moment, her mind envisioned a Rita Skeeter front page story: _Golden Girl Granger gets it going on pub crawls. Witches: Keep your wizards in tight rein!_

Shaking her head and straightening her shoulders, she sauntered in as best she could, taking a seat by the bar. The pub was half full, several people drinking on their own, and quite a few were having a late supper. The warmth was cozy after the cold from outside, and she shrugged off her cloak to show off her outfit: A black pencil skirt, high boots and a tight, purple sweater, snug around her waist and breasts.

"A porter, please," she said, giving Madam Rosmerta a smile. As she waited for her drink, she let her gaze move through the room. _Fuck! Double fuck!_ Snape was there, sitting in a corner with a book and nursing a pint of ale. She suddenly wondered if he was there for the same reason as her. Was he scanning the room for a witch to catch his interest?

At the least, he was aware of the comings and goings of the customers, as he lifted an eyebrow at her, rose from his chair, and walked towards the bar. She turned around fighting the blush in her cheeks. _Gods, what if he were, and what if he came to … her. What would she do? Somehow, impossibly, she felt a strong spark of desire at the thought, her sex pulsing by the thought._

"Out on your own, Granger?" His deep, silky voice still came from high above her head, even though she was sitting on a high bar stool, sending a shiver through her belly.

"Yes," she said, looking up at him. His finger drummed on the counter, and his look was indecipherable, as he cocked his head, looking down at her. He put a hand on her back, and _gods, she burned under his touch, her whole boy tingling._

"Another one, Rosmerta," he said to the barmaid.

"Coming right up, Professor Snape," Rosmerta said with a wide smile, giving him and Hermione a surprised, but appraising look.

He turned to her, mouth tugging a little: "Why are you here, Granger, dressed up to the nines?"

She felt her face flush, _no fuck, even her hands – her hands! – were flushed_ , and after a short while, she decided to go for the truth. From his wicked smirk, it was obvious that he knew, anyway.

"To see if I can meet someone, sir."

He arched his eyebrows, saying: "Someone in particular?"

"Like a date?", she replied.

"Something like that," he said.

"No, not really, sir. I've realized, that while I enjoy studying at Hogwarts immensely, it isn't all that conducive to meeting young wizards. Either they're too young…"

"Or too old," he supplied, voice a little bitter.

"Ah, well…" she swallowed uncertainly. _Clearly, he hadn't forgotten that she had told him that she'd thought he looked older than his years. But really, there was something about him… something she felt attracted to, no matter his age, something that made her dream about him – but clearly, she could never tell him that._

"I won't hinder you, Granger, just be careful. Remember what happened to Poppy," he said stiffly, turning around to return to his corner.

Xxxx

 _She looked smashing. That skirt showed off her tight, little arse perked on the bar stool, and the swell of her breasts were clearly visible through her sweater._ His cock flexed at the sight of her, craving attention. He had gone to the pub to get a decent beer to go with his book, but as his eyes twitched back and forth from his book and Granger, he realized he wouldn't get much pleasure out of reading. _And she had made it perfectly clear that Hogwarts didn't hold a suitable wizard for her._ Somehow, it stung him, though realistically speaking, he knew that she wouldn't be interested. Not for real, not outside her mission to spy on him, and what he had spied in her mind was clearly a freak accident. _Still, he felt like he needed to keep an eye on her. She was silly, really, to think a high-profile target could go safely into Hogsmeade alone, after what happened to Poppy. Typical Gryffindor, thinking she was invincible._

As a young wizard made a move on her, chatting her up, he felt his face morph into a deep scowl. _Get a grip, Granger can talk to anyone she likes,_ he scolded himself, but he was unable to wrench his eyes away from the wizard's advances. And to him, it looked like they had hit it off, when the wizard put his arm around her shoulder.

Xxxx

 _Why, oh why, was she always saddled with idiots? This one wanted to tell her that the war was due to a misunderstanding, and he was sure it could have been resolved peacefully, everyone living in harmony._ She had stared open-mouthed at him, and then the moron continued: "A pretty little slip of a girl like you shouldn't have to bother her head with politics and war."

He was young and handsome, with brown, curly hair and blue eyes, but _goddamn it_ , looks wasn't enough, not even for a one-night stand. She had to face it, she was also looking for someone with a brain to match her own. Unwittingly, her gaze slid to Professor Snape. He surely was brilliant enough to match her needs, but his disposition – _oh, that scowl_ _he was wearing_ … Oddly enough, she realized that she didn't object to his looks anymore. Rather, Snape looked … hot, of the dark and dangerous kind. _Her shift in perception fueled by those vividly hot dreams, no doubt._ By that thought, his eyes lifted from his book to meet hers, and she jumped on her stool, causing the idiot beside her to sling his arm around her shoulder. Snape's eyes narrowed, and he quickly looked down into his book again.

With a few choice words on what she thought a capable witch should do to someone who made unwelcome advances and what she thought of morons who'd believe Voldemort would settle for a cozy family life in a cottage, she sent the wizard packing. After that, the rumour of her rather rough threats obviously spread through the pub, and no one approached her. Disgruntled, she drained her last pint – of the four she had drunk – and settled her cloak around her shoulders.

At that, Professor Snape was at her shoulder, quietly, startling her, and he murmured: "Are you going back to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Nothing here today but meeting idiots."

"I'll walk you back, it's not safe," he said, his tone broking no objections.

She was drunk, irritated and embarrassed by her failure, and flustered by his presence. The fact that she wanted him, was insistently making itself know by the tingling feeling between her legs, but there was no way _he'd_ be interested. All in all, she felt quite thoroughly that she had made a fool of herself this evening.

They walked back to the castle in quiet. Just outside the gates, she stopped him, and her mouth poured out of its own volition: "I wouldn't want you to think I'm that forward. This is, as you probably can guess by my meager success, not something I do normally. I don't pick up wizards all the time, it's just that… I'm lonely". _Merlin, why am I telling him this? He doesn't care!_ She blushed, slightly horrified at her own, drunk stupidity, but was seemingly unable to stop herself.

Peering down at her from his height, his black hair hanging down, almost obscuring his face, he said: "I'm not one to judge a witch for taking an initiative."

She took a shuddering breath. _Gods, what was wrong with her? No one wanted her anyway. Harry had loads of love-letters, Ron too, and even the man in front of her, who had to be the second most feared man in magical Britain excepting Voldemort himself, received proposals all the time._

Shaking her head, she blundered on to her own shame: "I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Everyone nails this. Harry, Ron. You. For me, it's only been Ron, really, excepting one other, and as you probably can imagine, Ron and me went to hell rather fast."

He stared at her, face indiscernible as usual. "I'm sure you've had better offers afterwards," he said gently. "Weasley could never be a match for you, anyone could see that."

At that, she felt angry, and blurted out: "There are no offers! Only kids and sickos. It's like I have a disease, only attracting berks like Francis or Cato, or that stupid, misguided idiot down at the pub. No normal, nice wizards are interested."

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Surely, a pretty, young witch like you, war hero, accomplished academic, are run down with offers," he said slowly, eyes searching her face.

"No," she said curtly, "it's not happening."

Face returned to his usual scowl, he replied: "So much for the future of the nation. They're all nitwits."

Feeling as she had said entirely too much, red-faced with shame she stalked up to the castle, not daring to give him another glance.

Xxxx

Defiantly, she brought out her vibrator, laying it to rest on her bed spread. _If Hogsmeade couldn't deliver, then her toy could do it for her._ She had the fire roaring to chase the November cold out of her small chamber, and quickly, she stripped off her finery. Laying down on the bed, she slowly fingered her nipples with one hand, letting the other trail over her mound. Closing her eyes, she started a nameless, faceless fantasy, but quickly, it got out of hand.

 _The man wasn't faceless, it was Professor Snape. That sexy, upper body she had just glimpsed was bare, and his stringy hair was tied back. He had stripped her, but barely opened his trousers. With a firm hand, he pushed her down to his cock slipping out from the placket, nudging her lips with his member. She tasted him, and then he groaned. For a few moments, she sucked him off, and then he was so turned on by her, that he just had to have her, he wanted her so much…_

Her right hand found her vibrator, starting it, and applied pressure to her clit. _Yes, Professor Snape… He bent her over a table, entering her roughly from behind. It didn't hurt, because she was so wet, she wanted him so much. Thrusting hard into her, the fantasy-Snape was grunting with effort, whispering filthy, lewd things in her ear._ Her hand on the vibrator moved in time with his imagined thrusts, and soon, far too soon, she bucked over the edge, screaming his name as she shuddered and her belly clenched.

Xxxx

The next day, she got a letter from Harry, the owl finding her immersed in her studies at the library, to Madam Pince's shriek of disapproval. After she had read the letter, she felt shivers of fear crawling down her spine, squeezing her eyes shut, hands shaking, clutching the scroll. She hurried off to the staff room, wanting to share this with someone, anyone – and definitively, not being alone right now.

Inside, she found Snape marking a stack of papers. She panted, on the verge of panicking, thinking: _He may not be one for emotional comfort, but he will be able to assess the situation, never mind I totally made a fool of myself in Hogsmeade._

She walked up to him, and he lifted an eyebrow, saying: "I'm busy, Granger. This is my free period, and I'd like to finish the marking now, instead of tonight."

She thrust the letter at him, face pale, and hands still shaking. "You'll want to read this," she said quietly.

His dark eyes scanned the letter, and his mouth pinched. "So, the Auror Office still likes to keep its secrets," he muttered, returning the letter to her. "Only shame that they forgot to tell the employees to keep their mouths shut, what with having big mouths like Potter on the payroll."

"What?" she said incredulously. "Harry knew I need to know about this! And so do you, if what I've heard about you receiving death threats are true."

He shrugged. "I don't see any personal letters informing me of the fact."

"Never mind," she said almost frantic, "the fact remains, Azkaban is empty, and _no one knows!_ The danger is…"

"Certainly the greatest since the Dark Lord fell," he continued calmly. He looked at her, taking in her shaking hands, paleness and, she was sure, even the nervous sweat on her upper lip, and sighed.

"Sit," he pointed at the chair beside him. Snapping his fingers, he ordered tea from the House-elf that appeared. Instantly, a tea service appeared on the table, its appearance shuffling his stack of essays to the side.

He made her a cup, and she suddenly realized that he knew how she took her tea: the perfect amount of milk, no sugar. She clutched at the cup, trying to let the fragrance calm her.

Sipping his own tea, _black, no sugars_ , she noted, storing off for future reference, he said quietly: "We both knew this would happen. Now it has. From your letter, it seems like the attack was a success, freeing both Death Eaters and other miscreants. All we can do, is to prepare by being watchful and alert."

She nodded, but said: "I can't believe that the Ministry will give no warning to the public. Now you and I know, and I'm sure Harry will warn the other Order members. But this affects everyone. And," her voice fell to a whisper, "I can't help being scared."

"You should be," he said, scrutinizing her with his black, impassive gaze. "But you know what to do. You've been at war."

"Not like this", she said shakily. "I was either relatively safely here as one of many students at Hogwarts or on the run. Now, I'm a sitting duck, and as you said, maybe the main target. This feels like … paranoia."

His mouth quirked at that, and he said silkily: "True. You're much more exposed now. Still, I believe you can defend yourself more than adequately, and Hogwarts is still a safe place."

"What about you," she blurted out, "aren't you worried? To them, you are a traitor!" _He looked so calm and composed, like nothing ever would ruffle his feathers._

Draining his cup, grimacing over dredges of tea leaves at the bottom, he answered: "This… merely feels like a brief holiday is over. I've been in danger all my life. Now, it's back to normal."

She frowned at him. "I can see the danger aspect, but your role is surely considerably different. As a spy, you were welcome on both sides. Now, you have taken a stand."

He gave her a long look, before replying: "Everyone thought I had taken a stand the last year of the war. It wasn't all roses, so to speak."

She supposed, his Headmaster tenure must have been terrible for him, shunned and hated by his colleagues, trying to protect the students against the atrocities of the Carrows, students fighting him every step of the way. But then he rose, collecting his essays, and said: "My free period is over, and no markings were completed – thanks to you. I expect to see you in my quarters after dinner to help me finish them off. You are, after all, training under me for the time being." Smirking, he added: "And by all means, tell Filius I've given you an _adult_ detention. I can't wait to see his face."

Xxxx

 _Bloody hell, why wasn't anyone told about the great escape? Why wasn't HE told?_ He couldn't see the reason why, because even the Ministry couldn't be thick enough to think no one would notice. Not after the increase in killings and new sightings of supposedly imprisoned, high-ranking Death Eaters began, at least.

Granger had just left, the marking of the sixth year's Defense essays quickly and expediently done. He had enjoyed having her there with him, her quill scratching on paper, and her wicked little grin as she had spelled her handwriting to look like his. "I'll try to be as, errr…, assiduous in my evaluations of the essays as you are, Professor," she had told him, eyes glinting mischievously. He had snorted at that, but after a while, he had to still his curiosity, moving to stand behind her to read what she wrote. _And Merlin, those students would believe him to be in the foulest mood ever._ He had chuckled, and as she had twisted in her chair to look up at him, he had very much enjoyed the sight of her breasts straining against her tight shirt.

Now, he was reclining in his favorite, black leather wingback chair in front of the fire, a tumbler of Firewhisky in his hand. The fire chased the chill of the dungeons from his room, but he could still feel the remnants of cold creeping from the stone walls. It was definitively time for another chat with the castle, to keep the fires in his quarters going non-stop all winter. He sighed. _Bloody stubborn, silly castle. He was willing to swear, it hadn't acted up so often last year, making so much trouble for Minerva._

This new situation with the Azkaban escape would put him in a very demanding position, and from now on, covering all his responsibilities would be extremely difficult. _Dangerous._ _Delicate._ He felt his heart pumping faster already, that old rush of adrenaline making him alert. _There were people involved, people that trusted him, looked up to him, that were dependent on him, his silence, his actions. He had to be careful, too much hinged on his discretion._ And now he could prepare for this, thanks to Granger imparting her knowledge. Lives would be different, plans would have to change, if only he kept his secrets. _After all, they weren't all his alone._

He rather relished the fact that Granger came to him for comfort and advice. _There were so many things he'd like to teach her, not all of them considered wholesome or … good._ He smiled to himself, enjoying how the Firewhisky burned on its way down his throat. _Just like that, a little pain to feel alive._

Xxxx

Come weekend, Snape was once again gone. As she counted on him to check her food for love potions, she ticked off to herself that he'd been away eight weekends out of the eleven weeks of the term. _What was he doing with his time off? She had never noticed him being away when she was a student, but maybe he liked to have some time for himself. Smiling a little, she envisioned Snape mountain-hiking or shopping for ingredients or artifacts in Paris. Or, he could be off, barhopping and sleeping around for all she knew._ Her smile faltered.

Taking a bit of fresh air in a secluded spot in the courtyard – she didn't dare to go far out in the grounds alone anymore – she heard Heron and Byror talking in hushed voices.

"It's got to be him. All evidence points to him. He's one hell of a nasty bastard, and he's dead powerful," Francis Heron said with determination.

"You might be right," Cato Byror said slowly. "He was in You-know-who's Inner Circle, his right hand man, and he knows everything there is to know about all the Death Eaters."

Hermione froze. _Were they talking about Snape again? What was wrong with these wizards, were they jealous of his war hero status? Or did they know something?_

"Yes!" exclaimed Francis. "And he could trick anyone. He tricked either Dumbledore or You-know-who, or maybe he played both sides. He might have taken the opportunity to set himself up as the new leader when You-know-who was offed. Those death threats that he purportedly receives? It might be a sham, he's awfully clever."

"And he did kill Dumbledore," Cato said. "All the old teachers feel bad for being nasty to him the last year of the war, so now he's almost a saint in their eyes, even though he still is an evil git. Have you tried saying anything against him when he's not there? Everyone defends him, though no one likes him. He has manipulated the public view of him to his benefit."

"Absolutely, though he still acts like an arrogant, cantankerous prat to everyone. Except Granger – he seems to like her," Francis said with a small amount of bitterness. "Do you think she's letting him shag her?"

She gasped, feeling angry, both on behalf of Snape and herself. Readying herself to confront those two idiots, wand in hand, she stopped herself as the voices moved away. _Don't attack colleagues, don't hex them, don't jeopardize your Apprenticeship,_ she ground out to herself. The last she heard of them, was Cato saying:

"I don't know, but I can see why he's interested – that luscious body, those bouncy tits…"

She swallowed her anger. Sighing, she thought about what they were saying. _She couldn't believe it, but they had a point_. Snape would be a perfect candidate as the new leader of the Death Eaters. If those morons could see it, more people were bound to have the same idea, and what with the seemingly lack of trust the Ministry had in Snape's information… _She had to write to Harry._


	9. The Real Headmaster

**The Daily Prophet, 15 November:**

 _– In the light of the recent, horrible events, we must strengthen the privileges of the Aurors, says Wizengamot member Harold Greengrass. – In the dire situation we're facing, it's important that the Aurors are allowed to defend themselves the best way possible._

 _– I can't comment on that, says Head of Auror Office, Kingsley Shacklebolt, before his face breaks out into a wistful smile. From his expression, it's easy to read that the acclaimed war hero would think it reassuring if the Aurors could use Unforgivables to fight the Death Eaters._

 _– Though I feel for everyone who's lost a family member, I believe this is a dangerous path to tread, says Wizengamot member Andromeda Tonks, who lost her daughter and son-in-law in the war. – By all means, I believe the Auror Office should be strengthened, but not by Unforgivables. That would only lead to more hatred, not to mention putting a moral strain of the Aurors. There's no need to fight as dirty as the Death Eaters._

 _– Bollocks! Greengrass snorts, as a comment to Tonks. – This is romanticizing peace at its worst. The Death Eaters can only be fought on equal terms, and that means being allowed to pull an Avada if a Death Eater tries to kill you._

* * *

The next morning, the post owls swooped in, dropping Harry's letter into her tea. Groaning, she fished it out, drying the wet parchment quickly, but left opening the scroll for later. _The content wouldn't be_ _something I'd let other people see,_ she thought grimly, averting her eyes from Snape. Instead, she rolled out the _Prophet_ , giving a deep sigh as the headline read: _Muggle commuter train derails at high speed, Ministry suspects Death Eater involvement. 43 dead, 156 injured._

Minerva's furious muttering of "ludicrous! How can they say they suspect, this is as clear as the day!" made her look up, nodding in agreement as she met the Headmistress' eyes. As the main picture showed the Dark Mark quite clearly hovering above the train, she quite agreed. _Why did the Ministry always try to cover things up? It was blatantly clear to anyone that this was the work of dark wizards._

The pictures from the press conference proved her point, as a scowling, shifty-eyed Kingsley Shacklebolt continuously tried to sneak himself out of the pictures, while the dejected figure of the Minister Croaker sat slumped on a chair, tiredly waving his hands to get the next question from the reporters. _Hermione rather thought Kingsley, with his honesty and integrity, had to feel awful about the stupid subterfuge of the Ministry, but she guessed he was forced to go along with it._ She wondered though, how Harry was holding up. Her hot-headed friend would _not_ be pleased if he had to lie about Death Eater attacks.

The students were shifting uneasily, muttering, and someone was sniffling. _At least his time,_ she thought, _no students had lost their family._ Then she looked stricken down at her own hands. _How could she even think like that? These people were someone's family, someone's beloved. The fact that she didn't know anyone who had suffered the loss this time, did not make it better!_ The guilt hit her hard, and she wrung her hands in her lap. _She was a horrible, horrible person._

Giving Snape a quick look, she saw him frowning at the newspaper, and this time, he looked worried. _This wasn't the look of a triumphant leader, who saw the results of his minions' handiwork. It looked simply like a man deeply disturbed by the terrible news, just like anyone else would be._

Having lost her appetite, she hurried to her quarters to read Harry's letter. It was short, concise and to the point, written in Harry's messy handwriting: _Sorry, can't tell you. Take care. H._

Taking a deep breath, she stared at her reflection in the large mirror in her bedroom. _It was true, then. The Ministry really did suspect Snape, or else Harry would have denied it._ Smiling to herself, she knew that Harry would _know_ that he as good as told her. _He really was a good friend._

Wandering the hallways to get to the Potions classroom for her first opportunity to teach Snape's Potion class on her own, she pondered her situation. _What to do with her newfound knowledge? Was she and the rest of the school in any danger? If the Ministry thought he set himself up as the next, Dark Lord, why would they let him teach children?_ But somehow, she couldn't make herself believe that Snape was really evil. It felt like she had already been there, done that, only last year – and then he had proved himself as a courageous hero. _This was awful. She had to do something, find out what he was doing, as the Ministry did nothing at all – and preferably prove his innocence!_ With a new-found spring in her steps, she hurried to his office. _Nothing like a mission to energize herself! But the man himself would not be so amenable to this._

Stopping short, she groaned to herself. _He was a master of Legilimency. Chances were high that he's catch a glimpse of her mission if he looked into her mind._ Suddenly nerves set in – she was no Occlumens, and certainly no match for his Legilimency. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt sweat break out on her back. _Gods, he'd be so angry._

Xxxx

The students were quietly chattering, as they prepared their ingredients, some already starting their brewing. The seventh-years were happy with their task, as a Memory Potion were highly useful when studying for a test. _He looked forward to see Granger attempt to confiscate all the vials they would try to sneak out of the classroom,_ Severus thought to himself with amusement.

However, what he _didn't_ like, was her laxity in letting them talk too much while they brewed. That could easily lead to a slip of concentration and severe accidents. Frowning at the class, he decided to give her a hint. As he pushed gently at her mind, she looked up in confusion, and then her eyes fell on him, widening, looking panicky. With a grimace – _she was obviously scared of what he'd find in her mind, like he hadn't understood she was a spy a long time ago_ – he broke into her mind with a thrust, and she gasped.

 _Well inside, he blinked. It was exactly like a well-ordered library: Shelves with labeled memories, neatly placed like books in alphabetical order. Grinning to himself, he realized that he could find virtually anything in here, just by strolling along the shelves to find the right subject, letter and label. Resisting his acute desire to go look up "sex", he talked to her like he had planned to._

 _"Granger," he said, his voice sounding oddly displaced as it reverberated through the chambers of her mind. "The students will cause accidents if you let them talk this much. They're not watching their potions or reading the instructions properly."_

 _"Well, sir, I believe they will relax if they are allowed to talk a little, and some of them might do better if they're not so nervous."_

 _He groaned, and said impatiently: "Potion is not Charms or Transfiguration, Granger. A brew gone wrong can easily wipe out the entire class. Have you any idea of the accident rate Professor Slughorn had? I will not allow you to ruin my clean streak of no deaths or loss of limbs. You must rein them in, or else I'll do it for you. I'd prefer not to interfere with your authority."_

 _She was silent for a moment, and then she answered snippily: "Yes, sir. Now please stop invading my mind."_

Xxxx

In the afternoon, she strolled outside to catch the last rays of the feeble, November sunlight. Finding a secluded spot by the wall, overlooking the ground, she enjoyed seeing the ground sparkle with a fierce layer of diamond-hard frost.

Tucking herself into her favorite nook, she set a warming charm and pulled out her book, _Equations for the Future,_ by Tony Remanddero, second class Order of Merlin, leader of the Arithmancer's Guild.

For a long time, her mind existed solely in the text, burning through the arguments and theories at breakneck speed, and she barely registered any noises from her surroundings. Suddenly, her attention sprang to life, as the Headmistress _hissed_ close by: "Severus! You will do it, there are no other possibilities. When I retire next year, you must step up! The castle won't accept anyone else, and you know it."

There was a rustling sound, like an abrupt turn had made the wearer's robe swirl, and Professor Snape's deep voice replied, laced with irritation and scorn: "Are you deaf, witch? I told you and the Board _no_ in no uncertain terms last year, and you must be deliberately obtuse if you think I've changed my mind."

A derisive snort came from the Minerva, and she countered: "You accepted to step up if we couldn't find a way around the castle's will. After one and a half year, I think it's safe to say the castle is more than determined. It fights me every step of the way, and you know it. You still do all the warding, all seasonal adjustments and all repairs. The castle has decided: You are the real Headmaster, Severus. I want to retire, and I need you to do your duty."

Hermione stared wide-eyed and unseeing at her book. _She had always suspected the castle to be sentient, but still. Refusing the change of Headmaster? That made it more like a … being, than a magical object._

"Depends on who it is, I might help the next in line, too," Snape said, amusement clearly audible in his voice.

Minerva emitted a deep sigh. "The new Headmaster might object, though. I'm Headmistress in name only, the castle won't even permit me to set my own passwords to my office doors. It's _crippling,_ that's what it is, Severus. You need to take up the responsibility."

"Surely you can stay on for another year," he said. "You aren't _that_ decrepit yet, are you, Minerva? What are you, 64 years old? A mere youngster considering that Albus was still going strong at 115." His voice was sly, and Hermione could tell he was determinately goading her.

To her surprise, McGonagall didn't take the bait. Instead, she merely gave a heavy sigh, saying: "Severus, I don't want to give the rest of my life and my old age to Hogwarts. I've been here for _43 years_ , during two wars and more students than I can count. Now, I want to do something solely for myself, to see my family more often. Malcolm has asked me to join in on building up his brewery, and I would like that very much. You know, getting to know my family better."

"I wouldn't know anything about that, Minerva," Snape said, his rich voice taking on a bitter note. "But I do follow you on doing something for yourself. Maybe I should do that too. Quit Hogwarts, letting the new Head win over the castle without me as a distraction."

Minerva gasped, a shocked, loud sound: "You can't do that, Severus! It would be a disaster!"

"Watch me," he said darkly, and Hermione heard his heavy boots crunch the frozen ground as he left.

"That dratted man," McGonagall muttered. "I know he'll come around, he always does. He won't leave the students unprotected. Especially not _now._ " The Headmistress continued mumbling under her breath as she stomped off.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, her book forgotten. Either Snape was innocent and would keep up the protection of the castle, students and teachers alike, or everyone at Hogwarts was in mortal danger, and she couldn't find it in her to believe just that. _It was much more likely that he still was the one protecting the students, just like ha had done for years._

Through the Wizengamot hearing at his trial, they had all watched the memories he had given when he was close to dying in the Shrieking Shack. It was hard to believe that those memories were untrue, because how devious could a dying man really be, poisoned and choking on his own blood, only to clear his memory of charges? It was _illogical_ , that's what it was. Her gut feeling told her Snape was on the side of the Light. _And McGonagall seemed to hold the same sentiment. That held a considerable weight in her opinion. Still, she needed proof._

Xxxx

Monday morning, he secretly watched her she sipped her coffee in his office. Her robes were open, showing off a tight, black skirt wrapped around her hips and thighs, and a purple button-down shirt. He wondered if she had any idea how beautifully sculpted her body was. It certainly seemed like she didn't know, what with her silly complaints of _not_ attracting wizards – the very idea was ridiculous, really – but somehow, he thought she _had_ to be aware of her own charms. Or, maybe she was just a great actress. After all, she was supposed to be a spy. He snorted to himself, internally shaking his head at himself for his preoccupation with the chit. Suddenly, horribly, he became aware that _she_ was watching _him_ , watching _her._

She looked slightly amused, and then she threw him completely with her question: "Professor, what do you do, when you're spending almost all your weekends away from Hogwarts?"

He stared at her, feeling totally unprepared for her question, but his routine saved him, and he said, impassively: "Why do you care, Granger?"

At that, she stiffened, but she still met his gaze, and responded defiantly: "I'm just curious. As you check my food for love potions, I notice when you're away."

He arched his eyebrow at her, and said truthfully in a bland tone: "I want some time for myself. I've had it with doing the biddings of others through twenty years, and now, I just want to be left alone."

The chit had the grace to blush, but she pointed out: "People are talking, and wonder what you do."

 _Yes, you do, little Gryffindor tell-all spy,_ he thought, _but with such unsubtlety, you'll never find out._ Out loud, he said: "Aren't you a little careless, asking those questions?"

To her credit, she looked genuinely confused, but the conversation was interrupted by a knock on his door. Three Slytherin second years had been in a fist fight. Grumbling to himself, he vowed to teach them how a proper Slytherin fought. And by that, he did _not_ mean just physically.

Xxxx

It was already December, and the faculty was celebrating Hagrid's birthday down in his hut. He had baked rock cakes enough to feed a small army, brewed a rather nice ale, and thankfully, the House-elves had supplied additional cakes and snacks.

"How do you do it?" Minerva whispered to Hermione, as her rock cake slowly disappeared like she was actually eating.

"Vanishing piece by piece, "Hermione muttered back, hiding a smile at Minerva's moonstruck face. Then the Headmistress laughed wheezily, and patted her shoulder, saying: "Lovely idea, Hermione. I wish I had thought about that forty years ago. It might have saved me a tooth or two." Her smile was self-deprecating and amused.

Having the entire faculty over made the hut seem tiny and filled to the seams, cramming in the living room, spilling out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. People were passing around chocolates and snacks, and crates with iced butterbeer was continually refilled. House-elves served a red, delicious Elf-wine from Llys-Helig and Ogden's Firewhisky. Minerva and Filius had, to Hagrid's delight, worked together to Transfigure and Charm a full set of baby dragons from all known species as a birthday present. Now, the tiny little things were zooming about, spitting little streams of fire, trying to nick sweets and chocolate from the party-goers.

After a while, Hermione felt her legs and feet ache from standing. She had donned her highest heels for the evening, and wore her best black robe, opened to show off her short, black dress with a high collar. In front her mirror, she had felt smashing, but confronted with the ogling stare of Cato Byror, she felt stupid for dressing up. _It would have been better to wear a sack of burlap, if that could have prevented him from following her around._ _Thank Merlin, Francis Heron was patrolling the castle for the evening, which meant she had only one of them to contend with._

Ducking underneath Cato's arm _again_ , as he gave her a sleazy compliment _again,_ she quickly weaved in and out of the crowd, escaping into Hagrid's bedroom. The small room was packed, with Septima Vector, Rolanda Hooch, plus Aurora Sinistra and Transfiguration teacher Marius Gewerryn, their relationship now official. On the bed, Professor Snape sat, chatting with Hagrid, the two of them taking up almost the entire bed. Taking a look behind her, she saw Cato doggedly entering the bedroom. Her lips thinned, and she decided quickly: _Propriety could be damned._

To Hagrid's joy and Snape's disbelief, she put a hand on their thighs and commanded bossily: "Move over."

Hagrid made room for her, while Snape sat stock still, staring at her hand on his thigh, as she settled between them, squeezing in to a tight fit between the two wizards. Then their eyes met, and she removed her hand quickly, suddenly feeling awkward as his black eyes bored into her.

Turning to Hagrid, trying to ignore the surprising heat of Snape's thigh and shoulder pressed against her, she said: "Lovely birthday party, Hagrid."

He beamed at her, saying: "Tha' yeh all came, it means the world teh me, Hermione. An' Harry an' Ron sent me summat too, a set of claw trimmers for Hippogriffs! This is…" the giant sniffled, "so, yeh know, making me so happy…"

She stroked his arm, smiling back at him, telling him softly: "We love you, Hagrid, you know that."

It was the wrong thing to say, she immediately understood, as Hagrid almost burst into tears.

"Have a chocolate," Snape interrupted, brandishing a box of decidedly Muggle confectionary in front of Hagrid.

"Oh, yeah, maybe tha'…" Hagrid trailed off, wiping his eyes with a giant fist, then gingerly picking out a milk chocolate chocolate with almonds on top. "Thanks, Severus, it was so thoughtful of yeh ter buy me favorite, Muggle chocolates, yeh shouldn'ta..."

Hermione stared from one to the other. _Professor Snape giving Hagrid his favorite brand of Muggle sweets? That was almost … nice, if the word was possible to combine with the snarky, cantankerous man beside her. One more point in favour of Snape being a good guy,_ she noted.

Hagrid chewed happily on his chocolate, and Snape leaned in to her, his mouth almost brushing her ear, sending delicious little tingles down her body. _Gods, it's only natural, it has been so long for me, it has nothing to do with the fact that I keep having those dreams, not at all,_ she thought adamantly, refusing to think about her vivid dreams – now _plural_ – concerning the dark wizard currently pressed against her.

Snape whispered: "Don't set him off like that. The idea, Granger, is _not_ to ruin his night."

And then Byror was standing in front of them, peering curiously at her, saying: "There you are, Hermione! I was looking for you…"

And suddenly, she felt Snape's arm around her shoulder, clutching her possessively, curling his fingers around her arm, his mouth still impossibly close to the shell of her ear.

"Have a chocolate, Byror," he said dismissively, "I'm sure Hagrid will let you indulge." In his voice, she could _hear_ the sneer that had to be on his face.

The older, junior Potion teacher stared at the younger Potions Master, and Byror pressed his lips tightly together, scowling at Snape. Hermione almost couldn't believe it: _Professor Snape was clearly helping her with handling Cato Byror. That was another odd, but pleasant surprise._ Hesitantly, she leaned back into Snape's arm, and she could feel his arm twitch almost imperceptibly around her. _Oh well, she wouldn't push it, he was obviously not quite comfortable with it._ Still, she felt grateful.

"I see, Professor Snape, I see," Cato said dangerously. From the corner of her eye, she saw that Snape's expression shifted, from his usual arrogant sneer, into something like _smug_. _Oh mother Morgana, he wasn't about to join the competition between those two jerks concerning her?_ _Because if he was…_ She swallowed, feeling her belly suddenly clench and wetness started pooling between her legs. His breath against her ear made goosebumps break out. _Get a grip, Hermione! The man is only helping you out. He has no interest in you whatsoever!_

"Suit yerself," Hagrid said, waving the box at Byror, "take yer pick."

Cato took the box, stared at it, and then he looked at Hermione, a half-smile on his face. "Do you like chocolate, Hermione?"

"Absolutely," she said. "I could live on chocolate." Struck by inspiration, she added with a smile: "But I do prefer the dark ones."

Cato's eyes flashed dangerously, and he gave a shake of his head, causing his blond hair to fall into his eyes. She could almost swear she felt Snape's breath hitch, his face almost buried in her hair.

"There's so many different sorts," Cato said to Hagrid, "do you mind if I browse the box a little more? I'm not familiar with this brand."

"Take yer time. Yeh wouldn'ta know, o' course, bu' these are Muggle-made. Severus was so kind as ter buy me this, they're me favorite," Hagrid rumbled. "Fer meself, it's diff'cult ter get hold of 'em. I can' walk into a Muggle store just like tha'. I'm too big, yeh see."

"I can imagine," Cato said absently, as he turned halfway from them, hand trailing over the box. Then he suddenly turned back, stuffing a toffee in his mouth, and thrust the box at Hermione.

"Here you go, have your pick of the dark stuff," he said with a nasty smile and stalked off.

"Strange fellow," Hagrid said in a whisper, carrying throughout the room. "Stay away from that one, Hermione, I feel there's summat not right about him."

She couldn't agree more, but felt that it was imprudent to say it out loud in a room full of colleagues. Colleagues, who at the moment were almost craning their necks to look at her and Snape. Blushing slightly, she looked down into the box of chocolate. Still ensconced in the hook of the Professor's arm, she turned to Snape, saying: "And which one is your favorite, sir?"

"That one", he pointed to one of the two, remaining dark chocolates.

"Take it," she said with a smile, and helped herself to the other one. "Mmm, they're delicious," she mumbled.

Snape popped the last one in his mouth, chewed once, twice, and his eyes filled with horror. His grip on her arm strengthened into painful, and he croaked out: "Granger, I need your help, quickly! Silence me, Lock my arms, and lead me to my quarters. There's Amortentia in this!"

Her mouth fell open, but she rapidly fired off the spells, grabbed his arm and rose from the bed.

"Hagrid," she said calmly, "Professor Snape is ill. I'll help him back to the castle, and I'll be back shortly."

"Tha's kind of yeh, Hermione," her friend said, but looking a little confused, "bu' shouldn' I alert the new matron?"

Snape shook his head vigorously, and she said: "I guess not, Hagrid. We'll be alright."

Feeling the stares of their colleagues clustered into the bedroom, she ushered Snape into the main room, immediately Disillusioning him and herself to avoid more questions from their co-workers. She took Snape's hand, and he followed her willingly, staying very close to her.

They made it outside and into the castle, but she noted Snape keeping closer and closer to her, until he almost rubbed up against her. _What was this? Was the Amortentia keyed to her? It would be a sick joke indeed to feed Hagrid with that. Why would someone do that?_ Irritated, she thought that the two prime suspects would be Snape and Byror. And why would Snape be so stupid as to eat his own concoction? That didn't make sense at all _. But Byror, on the other hand…_ Her brows furrowed in anger.

When they reached the door to Snape's office, he looked expectantly at her, and she unraveled the Silencing spell for him to dismantle the wards. The first thing he said, though, was unexpected. His voice was impossibly deep, silky and brimming with _want._

"Gods, Granger, I've wanted to fuck you for so long. Did you know I spend the staff meetings fantasizing about your lovely, firm tits? I usually picture you taking me in your sweet, succulent mouth, licking my cock lasciviously, sucking me off with those pouty lips, and then I finish by spraying my semen over those perky, firm breasts, coating your hard nipples, turning them into dripping, little spires, glazing your chest. And then, I continue to taste you, lick your delicious cunt until you scream for me."

She gasped with shock, feeling fire ignite in her belly at his dirty, _dirty_ words, and his eyes glinted devilishly at her. "You didn't know that, eh? First things first, we've got to get inside." He turned to the door, saying what had to be his password: " _Bellamorte_ ", and the door opened slowly.

Swallowing, she followed him inside, furiously reciting her knowledge of Amortentia to herself. _It was the strongest love potion in the world, it was usually keyed to a specific person, it induced love, not merely lust, there was no need for a previous relationship between the two partners, people intoxicated by the potion did all sorts of strange things to impress the object of their love…_ Feeling an ounce of relief, she realized that Snape wasn't necessarily telling the truth, he would just say whatever he thought would get her attention. Then, on the other hand, why he'd think that _this_ would be the way to go about it, was baffling.

Well into his office, he stopped, pulling her into his arms as soon as the door closed. Her heart raced suddenly, and those flutters she had felt in her belly grew to deep tremors and her breath picked up, heart thudding in her chest. Snape backed her up to his desk, dark eyes locked on her face, and he bent her backwards, his hair brushing by her face. As his mouth descended to hers, she gasped out: " _Accio Hate Potion!"_

With a bang, one of the cupboards opened, and a small vial came flying out. She grabbed it in her hand, but then his lips crashed down on hers. Her whole body trembled, and he was almost shaking too, kissing her in a frenzy, thrusting his tongue deep in her mouth, devouring her. She couldn't help but kissing him back, whimpering with sheer want, feeling almost boneless in his arms. Between her legs, she was getting slick, and her clit pulsed in anticipation.

A very large, throbbing erection ground slowly against her stomach, and his hand came up, stroking her sides. Then she felt a large hand clamp down on her left breast, teasing her nipple, his thumb slowly moving in circles, occasionally flicking the bud sharply, making pleasure radiate into her belly. His other hand snaked up her thigh, twisting underneath her dress, moving up to the apex of her thighs, brushing slowly, deliciously, against the fabric of her knickers. Moaning out loud as his fingers touched her clit, she knew he had to feel that she was soaking wet, and _yes_ , she felt him smiling triumphantly, lips still firmly pressed against her mouth.

She gasped, as his fingers stroked her slit, but when he pushed her knickers aside, she stiffened.

 _Gods, this was so good, she wanted to continue, but that would be taking advantage of him, like a date rape drug… **He** wouldn't really want this. It was all wrong. _Groaning to herself, she wrenched free, slipping through his grasp and pushed him against the desk instead. Standing between his legs, she tried to avoid staring at the obvious and massive erection tenting his robes. _That thing … was a monster. And she felt her sex quiver in need by the thought._

"Close your eyes, open up your mouth," she whispered seductively at him, and he obeyed. Quickly, she tipped the Hate potion that would nullify the Amortentia into his mouth. His eyes shot open, he gasped and trembled violently, and then he blinked slowly twice.

Xxxx

He felt embarrassment flush over him. _Gods no, what had he done?_ Horrified, he looked down at Granger, her lips swollen and pouty from his kiss, she was standing so close to him that her stomach almost touched his raging hard-on. He had kissed her, ravaged her, really, and if she hadn't gotten hold of the antidote, he'd most certainly have… _Salazar's bollocks, this was a near-miss rape. There was no chance in hell for Granger to let him… Merlin, he had to apologize._

Frustrated and appalled at his potions-induced actions, he drew a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before he felt as if he stammered. But what came out, of course, was the measured cadences of his spy-trained voice: "I'm sorry, Granger. I shouldn't have put you through that, and I hope you can forgive me for forcing myself on you. I can assure you, I would never assault you like that of my own, free will."

She was blushing to the roots of her hair, and her gaze was locked on his chest. "It doesn't matter, sir, I know it was the potion. Don't be sorry, this could easily have been me. Only, I would probably not have recognized the brew and reacted so quickly."

Feeling tendrils of relief spiraling outwards, he noted that the shame he felt thankfully had made his cock soften. _Really, did the girl look disappointed? His memory of the event was hazy by his potion-induced frenzy, but surely she couldn't have wanted this, or..?_ Exhaling deeply, he said, sounding almost idiotically cheerful to his own ears: "I believe you wouldn't attacked me like that, Granger."

She gave him a brief, crooked smile, saying: "I wouldn't know. I've never dared to try…" Her face seemed suddenly drawn and bitter, and she continued, softly to herself: "No one has ever cared enough for me, that I would want to make a fool of myself by engaging in consensual play with love potions as many people do. There's always an aftermath, and when you know it's not real, it would just be disappointing and embarrassing."

He gave her a searching glance, trying to understand what was going on in her mind – and the lure of _Legilimency_ had never been greater. _No, he couldn't. She would notice._

Instead, he said: "Surely, as this year has shown, you have plenty of admirers." And by that, he started chuckling. Granger gave him a quick look, a mix of surprise and a deep hurt on her face, like she thought he was laughing at her.

Still chuckling, but with a grimace on his face, he said: "Byror, that fucking idiot. If he doesn't know how to dress an Amortentia properly, he isn't worth his pay."

Her eyebrows shot almost into her hairline, and he felt the need to explain more: "I suppose he injected the chocolate with Amortentia, hoping that you would eat it. By all rights, he should have dressed the potion with a drop of his blood. Thank Merlin he didn't, or else I would have made a right mess of it all, going after _him._ " The thought made him almost sick, not that he had anything against gays, but he really, really couldn't stand that worthless piece of shit.

"Oh," she said. Then, slowly: "I thought it was targeted to me. I was worried Byror had rigged it to make Hagrid…" she stopped, suddenly, before continuing: "For what it was worth, I'm glad it was you."

"Ah, well." He had no idea what to make of that, and a voice in his head chanted _Legilimens, Legilimens_! He forced it down, noticing she _still_ was standing between his legs. _She had kissed him back, he was almost sure, as sure he could be considering his frenzied state earlier. And gods, had she been wet when he had touched her…?_ His hopeful cock twitched slightly, but he squashed any notions it had of trying to continue the show.

Then she said, brow furrowing: "I can't remember reading anything about an undressed Amortentia. What does it actually do?"

He stared at her, and then he said, feeling that it would be useless to lie to his resident know-it-all, she would just go straight to the library and check the facts for herself: "One of two things: Either you latch on to the person closest to you, or it magnifies a love interest, or a more carnal interest, that you already harbour." _And in my case,_ his brain added, _it's both._

Her mouth quirked, and she said: "So, if Hagrid had still been sitting beside you…?"

Glaring at her, he said offended: "I don't think so, Granger. I believe in my case, I would have latched on to the closest female, but that, of course, could have been different if Byror had spiked it properly."

He reined himself in. _This was no way to thank her for saving him from utter humiliation in front of the entire faculty._ "Granger, I must return the compliment. Others would not have been so helpful. I'm just sorry that this was forced upon you. You probably have found a young wizard in Hogsmeade by now, and this is the last thing you'd want to happen…" This time, it was his own voice that was laced with bitterness.

But Granger barked a short, cynical laugh, saying curtly: "No. Did you know, you were dead right about me, all those years ago? No one is interested in me, because I _am_ a know-it-all. And that, apparently, is a turn-off for most wizards, unless they are idiots like Byror. And Heron," she added. Giving him a sarcastic grin, she said: "I envision my future here, at Hogwarts, as a single teacher, with lots of books and cats for company."

He shrugged, and drawled: "You're very young. When you're sixty, you'll laugh at this, sitting with your own, little clan of grandchildren around you."

She quirked her mouth, and countered, leaning forward, supporting her hands on his thighs: "What will _you_ be doing when you're eighty?"

He stilled. _Eighty? He had never expected to turn forty, but that day was approaching fast._

She continued, looking amused: "Maybe we'll have tea in the staffroom together – with my cats."

By that, she finally withdrew from him, saying: "I need to go back to Hagrid's. You'll be alright, won't you?"

He nodded, and she left. _Merlin, he was thankful she hadn't discovered his renewed erection. He needed a good wank. She had been wet. She had. He knew it. Gods, that witch had to be desperate, but so was he. Such a shame their contact was all due to her job spying on him._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Please tell me what you think!_


	10. Passable

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting! It's such a motivation for writing more. Please tell me what you think! As for this chapter, let's just say it's not easy being Severus Snape. ;-)_

* * *

 ** _The Daily Prophet, 7 December_**

 _Death Eater Jugson delivered dead and frozen at Skeeter's home by Muggle Grocery Express!_

 _\- I don't know why I'm targeted with this, says a shaken Skeeter, after the second Death Eater turned up dead literally under her nose, stuffed into a crate that the Muggle delivery chauffeur believed to contain frozen cod. – These are high-ranking profiles in the Death Eater community too, and I can only wonder if someone wants a special kind of publicity. It seems suspicious, and I believe this is the Ministry's doing, trying to maximize PR after they've unlawfully killed Death Eaters without trials._

 _\- What preposterous nonsense, snorts Ministry spokeswitch Marigold Lebennon. – We would have rejoiced publicly if we had caught a war criminal, not starting a crack-brained scheme on delivering them dead to a reporter. All war criminals should go on trial, and if the Aurors had killed someone in action, we would inform the public of that too. The Ministry has nothing to hide._

* * *

The details were gruesome, still the _Prophet_ happily printed the fact that the man seemed to have been suffocated by his own, cut-off cock, complete with a picture of his frozen visage, his mouth stretched open around something that resembled a bloodied sausage. Hermione swallowed her bile, as she forced herself to chew her dry toast slowly. Around her, she heard students and teachers alike making retching sounds. _What was wrong with the Prophet? Didn't the editor understand that no one would like to see such images?_

A Hufflepuff first-year vomited all over her breakfast, and Pomona Sprout hurried off to take care of it. Glancing at Snape, Hermione saw him stare at the picture with something she could only describe as satisfaction.

"You knew him, too," she stated quietly, and he looked up at her. Suddenly, his sallow cheeks flushed, and he turned his gaze down to the paper again.

"He was a vicious beast, and he certainly deserved to die," he said curtly.

"Yes," she said, pondering: _How long had Jugson's corpse been frozen, either by Muggle means or with a Freezing Charm? She remembered him returning to the castle with injuries. Could he have been the one killing Dolohov and Jugson, delivering them to Skeeter to ensure it would be in the paper? Or was he involved with them, somehow, punishing them for transgressions or, as he had said, power scuffles? Not many would be able to take out fully trained, ruthless Death Eaters_. _Certainly, that someone would have to_ _be powerful, like a seasoned Auror or a Death Eater. Snape fit the bill just perfectly. But if he was the Dark leader, why would he off his own people? Voldemort had done so, but he was a maniac, while Snape clearly wasn't. Him being the leader just didn't add up._

Xxxx

"I'm here for my performance assessment," she said. To his ears, her voice was a little querulous.

"Right, Granger," he replied, aiming for cool and calm, not flustered like he felt. _Yesterday, after she left, he had come twice to the hazy memory of groping her, and now she was here for her evaluation of her training period._ "I'll make it brief." He supposed she wanted to be far away from him too, it wasn't an everyday occurrence to give an assessment to a witch he had snogged the night before. In fact, out of sheer professionalism, he hoped it would never happen again.

"Ok, Professor", she said, eyes downcast and a slight flush to her face. The icy chill of the dungeons had seeped into his warm office when she opened the door, and he had to draw his eyes away from her nipples peaking underneath her soft, woolen sweater. Imagining running his thumbs over those hard peaks, made him clutch his mug of coffee. Closing his eyes briefly to clear the images away, he gesturing for her to help herself to a mug too.

"In short, you were passable. You had sufficient control and discipline in your classes, the students were attentive and interested, and you guided them through the curriculum in a professional way."

He paused, looking at her pleased expression, and then he couldn't stop himself. _Gods, Severus Snape, are you really going to do this? Give **real praise**_ _to her?_ His mouth continued talking, while his mind seemed to watch in fascinated horror: "I'd say, you can teach most Hogwarts classes anytime. I'll tell Septima that from my point of view, you should be allowed to drop the rest of your training as a teacher, instead concentrating on your thesis. That would be more useful to you at this stage."

She lifted her bright, shining eyes to him, breathing out: "Wow, thank you, sir! I never expected to hear any sort of praise from you."

"Well," he said gruffly, concealing his own embarrassment, "there's no need to act like I hate you anymore, is there? No one can tell the Dark Lord that his trusted servant gave praise to the Muggleborn friend of Potter and ruin my cover."

"I suppose not," she said, with a faint, but triumphant smile. _He had always known, she was a sucker for approval from her teachers. And now, finally, she got it from him too._ He sighed a little in defeat.

She sipped her coffee, looking a little wistfully at him. "I'll miss the morning coffee, sir," she said impulsively.

He fought the heat threatening to colour his sallow cheeks – _would she miss **him** too?_ – and then his mouth once again talked without his brain being in on it: "You're welcome to join me for coffee in the mornings still, Granger." _Now, why would he say something like that? He enjoyed her company for his morning indulgence, but really…_

Granger, however, lit up, and her face exploded into a big smile: "I'd love to, sir. Count me in."

Severus sighed, trying not to show he was secretly pleased by her answer. He expected her to leave, but instead she stood still, twirling a wayward golden-brown curl from her hair.

"Something else on your mind, Granger?" He was determinedly keeping his eyes on his paperwork, feigning a bored disinterest in what she would say.

"Mmm, yes. I was wondering, if we could join in a little spot of revenge against Byror, sir."

Whatever he had thought she'd say, this was nowhere near the mark. "Revenge?" he asked weakly, looking up to meet her golden-flecked, brown eyes. _Sweet Salazar, had she been this beautiful before? Or was this a side effect of the Amortentia?_

"Yes. What he did was rotten, to both you and me – and Hagrid too. I think he deserves a good, proverbial smack." Her eyes were flashing dangerously.

He assessed her calmly, wondering again, _just how far would she go to win his trust?_ – before he shook his head. "No, Granger. I can't do that. You, as a Golden Trio member, could probably dismember the man in public, and still walk out scot-free. I, on the other hand, am in no such position. I would be dragged to Azkaban for even the most puny attack."

She looked at him, bright eyes considering, and then she nodded abruptly. "I understand, they would probably take you down at the merest whiff of a curse," she said, and he nearly choked on his coffee. _Merlin, this was the very reason Gryffindors made such dreadful spies. They were simply not able to lie, blurting out the truth no matter the company and the occasion. With this, Granger as good as told him he was a suspect in the eyes of the Ministry._

He rolled his eyes, and replied: "By all means, you have my wholehearted approval to mete out revenge in any way you find prudent."

"I would like to sound out a few ideas with you," she said nervously.

Arching his eyebrow, he said: "Go ahead, as long as this doesn't make me into an accomplice." He had to admit to himself, he was very curious about what the little goody two-shoes Gryffindor Princess thought was a suitable revenge. Moreover, he was also impressed _. Getting revenge – it appealed more than a little to his darker side._

"The first one does, sort of, but it isn't illegal, merely unusual," she continued, blushing a bright red.

"Go on," he said, intrigued even more by her blushing than her plans for revenge. She fidgeted, fingers nervously pulling at her skirt, before continuing.

"Um, well, as you know, I have been having a bit of a problem with Byror and Heron. They don't take a polite no for an answer. I wondered…" her voice fell to a whisper, "if I could tell them you slept with me after the potion took effect. That would irk Byror, he'd be sure to tell Heron, and it will make them stay away from me. To avoid rumours, we could tell the truth to Septima and Minerva, for example. Those two idiots would be angry, Byror will feel stupid, and I can go about my business without them bothering me."

Incredulous, he looked at her, his normally measured voice ending up as a croak: "You want to tell Byror we had sex?"

"Yes," she whispered, beet red.

"Good heavens girl, why would you say that?" he snapped. "If you tell Minerva the truth, she'll have to take disciplinary action against Byror for unsanctioned use of Amortentia. He does deserve that, but if that's your idea for revenge, just go ahead and _tell_ her without any lies. If you spread a story of us … sleeping together, close to no one will believe it to be voluntary. Everyone, including several of our colleagues, will wonder if I've used the Imperius on you to make you go along with it. Those who doesn't believe that, will merely think I raped you."

"I don't think so…," she began protesting, but he cut her off brutally with a scowl.

"They will. Believe me, they will. This is, Granger, an astoundingly stupid idea." He had experienced too many rounds of people's lack of trust in him, to willingly put himself in such a situation. Though, the idea of telling those dunderheads that he'd bedded her, was more than appealing. _He had enjoyed the fury on Byror's face, when the man thought Severus actually was staking a claim to Granger at Hagrid's party. Their reactions would be exquisite to watch, but the idea was tantamount to idiocy in the long run._

Her shoulders slumped a little, before she continued, eyes downcast: "My plan B will be a bit more tricky. Are you familiar with the _Impolitio_ curse?"

"Yes," he said slowly, not grasping what she was aiming for.

"I've thought about developing the curse to be semi-permanent, like an unpleasant personality trait, unless it is removed by the counter spell, of course. It should seem like the person swears, offends and curses people entirely of their own will. By extending the duration and making the curse untraceable, no one would know it happens due to a spell. If I could make this work, Byror will, for a while, feel just as uncomfortable as he tried to make us. But here's the catch: The alteration is quite difficult Mind Magic, and I would like for you to check my spellwork before I try to use it to prevent brain damage. You've invented several spells before, haven't you, sir?"

Baffled, he barked a laugh. "Thank Merlin, Granger, that you never joined the Dark Lord. With you on his side, we'd never have won. This sounds like, if I must say so, a rather _dark_ spell, not something anyone would expect from someone like _you_."

Seeing it for what it was, a twisted compliment, she beamed: "You think it would work, then?" Suddenly smiling mischievously, she added: "And no, my ambition was never to off myself by trying to become the first, _Muggleborn_ Death Eater."

"There's that", he conceded. Then he voluntarily offered – _damn, that's why she was an effective spy, no matter her Gryffindor bluntness, he simply **wanted** to tell her things_: "Actually, the Dark Lord was mostly interested in the power, intelligence and knowledge of his followers. I would venture to say he personally didn't give a damn about anyone's bloodline but his own, and he most certainly didn't believe in those silly ideas of Muggleborns stealing magic. If he could have wormed his way past his followers' silly prejudices, he would have loved to recruit you."

"Hah," she snorted. "I'd be killed, he'd never want anything to do with someone like me. Like you told me, I'm everything he opposed. Muggleborn witch, Harry's friend, member of the Order."

Severus smiled, hiding his face behind his hair. "Oh no, the Dark Lord would have loved to pick your brain. He enjoyed powerful wizards and witches who could follow his thoughts on magical theory, and you'd certainly be able to do just that. And also," his smirk became visible, "he would, of course, want to seduce you. Both figuratively to the dark side, and quite literally."

"What?" she said, aghast.

"It's not widely known outside his Inner Circle, but the Dark Lord had a quite… voracious … appetite. He would have been very eager indeed to land you in his bed." _Take that information back to the Ministry, and see if you can shock them_ , he thought maliciously.

The girl looked positively green, and he chuckled, pleased by her obvious revulsion. _She would have fainted, had she known that the Dark Lord seldom used violence or spells to get his witches willing, even after his resurrection, with the rather … unfortunate … lack of a nose, and what with the red eyes and skeletal frame. No one on the side of the light would ever believe that the man was charming and seductive when he wanted to. However, when he did go for violence, it was nothing short of vile._ Instead, he said: "Though, by a stroke of luck to both you and the wizarding world, you never tried to become a Death Eater."

"Thank Merlin," she muttered with a grimace of disgust, before shaking her head. "So, will you help me test my spell?"

 _She actually meant it. It had to be a test. Why, by Merlin's purple balls, would Hermione Granger of all people create a dark spell? This was a rather obvious attempt to entrap him into doing something illegal._ Glaring at her, he curtly refused with a vehement "no." _The fuck, he wasn't about to be hauled off to Azkaban for correcting the Golden Girl's dark spellwork!_

Xxxx

As the flames turned green, she waved a fond goodbye to Minerva. The Headmistress had said with a kind smile: "Dear Hermione, you shouldn't feel like a prisoner here at Hogwarts, though the world is not a safe place for the moment. For this one occasion, you can use my Floo to Hogsmeade. I gather it would do you a world of good to get out on your own. Rosmerta will allow you to Floo back." With a small frown, Minerva had added: "Please do be careful, and keep to the main street. Remember, wand at the ready at all times, and come straight back here after you've done your shopping!"

The reminder had made Hermione smile. _Like she was a child, a silly student, not a battle-grizzled war-hero. But the protective care behind McGonagall's word warmed her heart._

As she entered the Three Broomsticks through the Floo, Madam Rosmerta smiled at her, having been warned beforehand by Minerva. She slipped out, ready for her secret mission: Christmas shopping, and meeting Harry at the Three Broomsticks afterwards. _It would be lovely to get her mind off Snape's embarrassing refusal to her plan A. Hermione really wasn't sure where she had gotten the nerve to ask him, but logically, she was convinced that the plan would have worked perfectly, stopping both Byror and Heron pursuing her, and taking them both down a notch._

Frowning a little to herself, she rather thought that Snape had exaggerated what people would think. After all, he was the one shagging scores of witches, not _raping_ them. Anyway, she had never picked Snape as someone who cared for his reputation. Shaking the thoughts off, she tried to immerse herself in the Christmas cheer exuding from the decorations and lights from the Hogsmeade main street, and the lovely smells of freshly made gingerbreads, sugar roasted almonds and mince pies.

She was going to buy gifts for Harry, Luna and Neville, plus her colleagues. Her mood slipped a little as she remembered those gifts that she _didn't_ have to buy this year: The whole Weasley clan, half of them on less than friendly terms, the other half scared to antagonize the rest. Shaking her head, she roused herself, walking with determination towards Honeydukes. It was snowing lightly, and even though it was only early afternoon, the light was already fading, leaving the streetlamps and shop windows to make pools of warm, golden light in the darkening main street.

Passing by Zonko's, she did a double take. _Was that Professor Snape, smiling tenderly to himself as he lifted a play-wand, the kind one bought for very small children, off the shelf? What in the world … a play wand?_ Those wands could serve a limited number of spells, powered by the child's magic, but restricting any possible damage and dangerous spells.

Standing still in the gently drifting snow, she saw that it was indeed Snape. He had obviously chosen his gift, and carried the box with the play wand to the counter, a secretive, small smile on his face. Though, when he reached the counter, his face was all business again, the epitome of the scowling, looming Potion Master of her childhood.

She couldn't help wondering what kind of child that would bring such a fond smile on the dour man's face, because she had never picked him for one who even _remotely_ liked kids.

Then she froze, with a sinking feeling in her gut. _Merlin, Hermione,_ she thought, _sometimes two and two makes actually four. Snape was away for most weekends, and here he was, buying a Christmas gift for a child he obviously cared for. Of course, he had a child. Probably a wife too, or a lover. That's where he went all those weekends – to visit with his own family._

Quickly, she scurried off, knuckles wiping furiously at unbidden, unwanted tears, and she hid herself into the bookshop, _Spines & Ink, _at the corner of the high street in Hogsmeade. _Severus Snape had a family_. A secret one, but a family nonetheless. _How stupid he must have thought her, when they had kissed during the Amortentia incident._ She shivered, though her face was hot with humiliation and shame. _Morgana, she had thought he liked it, while he must have felt regret and distaste. And no wonder he had been so shocked by her proposal of revenge._ Hermione wanted to bury herself underneath the castle, never to emerge.

Her good mood was gone, and she did her Christmas shopping with a scowl worthy of the Potion Master himself.

"Merlin, Hermione, who died?" said Harry nervously, as he took in her mood.

"No one," she said curtly, I just saw something strange that set me off. And," she said, to put Harry off track, "I miss the Weasleys."

"Oh, Hermione," he said softly, "Ginny and George would love to see you, but as I told you… Well, I think Molly has cooled off a bit, but Ron is still pretty angry with you."

She sighed, willing herself to _not_ think about Snape. "I miss Ron too," she said, and as Harry opened his mouth, she hurriedly said: "As a friend, Harry, only as a friend. Gods, let's talk about something else, or what? Any news on the Death Eaters?"

"No," Harry said, slowly, worried. "Not a single thing, and it disturbs me. The Minister believes the leader to be someone in the Ministry, as it's clear they have access to inside information, but …" he leaned in, whispering to her: "Rumour says he might not be quite what he seems. He had a brief career in dark magic when he was young, that's how he ended up in the Department of Mysteries in the first place. Some says he knew Voldemort from before my Mum and Dad died. Kingsley is worried, I know, but he's a loyal one, not saying anything bad about his superior. Still, he's uneasy. But the Minister – I can't really believe he's like that, he seems like an okay fellow, but the rumours are persistent."

Hermione felt her eyes widen. "You don't think…" she said in a low hiss.

"I don't think _anything_ , Hermione," Harry said firmly. "If the Auror training has taught me anything, it is that I need to be sure."

Xxxx

She was _sick_ to her guts. Snape was obviously involved with someone, and she had gotten so close to becoming "the other woman" during the Amortentia event. Hermione was well aware of how painful that situation could be after her stint with Ron, and she reassured herself that she _hadn't_ known. To make someone betray their significant other – she just wasn't that kind of person. _And surely, she didn't, shouldn't, wouldn't care about Professor Snape that way, no matter her hot dreams and sexual fantasies. There was absolutely no reason for her to be disappointed for him having a life outside Hogwarts._ After a few days, she just had to share her thoughts with someone, and so she paid Hagrid a visit.

She was twirling her wand, swinging her legs on Hagrid's too big chair.

"Now, wha's up? Yeh look peevish," Hagrid said, warm, brown eyes looking searchingly at her.

"I've a bit of a problem," she said slowly. "I've fallen for a wizard, and I think he might be interested. He might be taken, but I'm not sure. And that's plain wrong. I don't know what to do."

"It is, Hermione," Hagrid said gravely. "If he's taken, nothin' good will come outta it."

"I know," she sighed. "But it's so difficult."

"In tha' case, stay away, leave it be, it's the righ' thing ter do," Hagrid said, pushing her hair away from her brow with a large, calloused hand. "Find yerself someone with no strings attached. Yeh deserve tha', Hermione."

Tears were pooling in her eyes, and she nodded dejectedly. As Hagrid slung his arm around her shoulder, he almost knocked the breath out of her.

"Who is it?", the giant asked her gently, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Promise you won't tell anyone," she said earnestly.

"Aye," Hagrid rumbled.

"It's Professor Snape. I don't really dare to approach him, he _is_ kind of scary still."

Hagrid withdrew from her, looking confused. "Severus? I can see wha' yeh mean abou' _scary,_ but how in the name of Merlin did yeh get the idea he was taken?"

She told him of her suspicions, but Hagrid shook his head, laughing slightly. "I can tell yeh this much, Hermione, if tha' wizard had a witch and a kid, he wouldn' kep' 'em away. He'd do everythin' in his power to protect 'em, _every day._ Not just the weekends."

Xxxx

She felt reassured after her talk with Hagrid, but when Snape was away the next weekend too, she felt her insecurities grow. Consequently, when Francis Heron's wheedling made her agree to go out for a drink on Sunday night, she accepted to get her mind on other things, other people. _It couldn't be as horrible as she imagined it would be_ , she thought in advance, but she was wrong.

Fidgeting through their drinks at the Three Broomsticks, she was bored out of her mind. The man might be handsome, but he was so thick between his ears… _Oh well, she should try to see his good sides. His looks, yes, and the students seemed to adore him. Shame though, he couldn't seem to talk about anything but himself._

"So, I've seen quite a lot in my days as an Auror," he said, giving her a smug smile.

Trying, but failing to hide the sarcasm, she asked: "Why did you give up your, obviously _illustrious_ , Auror career to become a teacher?"

"Oh, that," he said, winking at her. "Who says my Auror career is over?"

She stared at him in disbelief, and he continued: "Who says I haven't got a task here at Hogwarts, watching over someone _very_ important, making sure that nothing suspicious happens?"

 _Gods, did the man just say that he was ordered to teach here as a spy, watching over someone? How stupid could Francis be – as a spy, he shouldn't go about telling people about it! And who could that someone be? Francis had been at Hogwarts since the school reopened after the war. It **had** to be Snape he was spying on. _

"Does the Headmistress know?" she said weakly, and the man answered her, a little affronted: "Of course. Minerva is fully in on the plan."

 _She had wondered why Minerva had engaged someone so obviously stupid as a Defense teacher, but this explained a lot. And, it also pointed to Kingsley not taking the idea of Snape being the Dark leader seriously, or else there would have been someone far more competent watching over Hogwarts_ , she snorted to herself.

Relief flooded through her, as Kingsley's opinion meant a lot to her – just like Minerva's. If Minerva knew, and **still** trusted Snape, then he was as good as innocent in Hermione's eyes. The happiness made her give Heron a wide smile, and he scooted closer to her on the bench.

Feigning a yawn, she told him she had to get up early, and they left for the castle, him looking smug, she looking forward to withdraw to her own quarters. Just inside the gates of Hogwarts, he ambushed her, pulling her into a rough embrace, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, snogging her with force.

She writhed, trying to get away, pushing at him, trying to close her mouth to repeal his advances.

Suddenly, Heron retreated hastily, backing off her with his hands raised in a placating gesture, and she scrubbed at her mouth furiously, glaring at him. As she opened her mouth to scour him, she stopped short by hearing the deep, silky voice from behind her:

"Far be it from me to stop my colleagues to indulge in such pleasurable activities, but you should perhaps reconsider the location. You are now in full view of the windows from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms. Are you sure your wanton behavior set a good example for our young, impressionable students?"

The air was crackling with magic, dangerous, threatening, charging her hair with electricity, making it stand out. Heron looked frightened, staring at Snape behind her back, mumbling "I meant no harm, it was just a friendly kiss, nothing more, I wouldn't presume to interfere…"

The wild magic in the air took shape, a spell whispered past her, and Heron's eyes widened, his mouth opening in a soundless howl, body shuddering.

Hermione stared for moment at Heron, and then she quickly turned to Snape, seeing him as a menacing shape in the dark, face half obscured by his hair, mouth muttering the curse under his breath, gleaming eyes trained on Heron with a frightful intensity: _"Hallucin Cruxit, Maxima Longoturnitas e Dolores."_

He finished the incantation with a flourish of his wand, and Heron sank into a boneless heap on the ground, groaning softly, painfully.

"What did you do?" she hissed to Snape. _Heron might be an idiot, but he didn't deserve to be cursed. Besides, if anyone had the right to hex him, it was her! She was the one who had been accosted._

Slowly, Snape's eyes traveled over to her, burning black, scalding her skin. He said nothing, until he suddenly sneered, and spat out: "Finally something for you to report, eh? The ex-Death Eater losing it, using dark curses in front of the Golden Princess. I suppose you'll be rewarded. Well done, Granger!"

He was off in a swirl of robes, and she stared dumbfounded after him. _Report? Rewarded? What in the name of Merlin was the man blathering about?_

A whimpering, pitiful sound from Heron drew her out of her musings, and she looked with disgust down at him crawling around on the snow-flecked ground. _She should feel sorry for him, but she wasn't able to. The man had forced himself on her, no one could expect her to treat him with anything resembling empathy. She should just leave him in the snow – but she couldn't. That wasn't her, Hermione Granger **helped**_ _people in need._

Gritting her teeth together, she Levitated him, floating him across the frozen grounds to the front doors, and well inside the Entrance Hall, she propped him up into a chair beside a suit of armour.

"Can you walk? Do you need the hospital wing?" she asked, impatiently.

Heron shook his head, and croaked out: "Not… the hospital wing. I'll get to my own rooms, just need a bit of rest…" His head slumped back, looking haggard, and he breathed heavily through his nose. Brown eyes imploring her, he asked timidly: "Can you support me back to my quarters? I need help."

She nodded, mouth thinning, and took his arm un-gently, dragging the him up. Slowly, they moved across the hall and in the direction of Heron's chambers in the Ravenclaw tower, no one noticing the dark shadow observing them from the entrance to the dungeons. 

Xxxx

Severus tossed and turned in his sleep, sweat breaking out, trying to hold back the howl that wanted to break free from his lips…

 _… because_ _the Dark Lord wasn't dead, far from it, and Malfoy Manor flickered with flashes of sinister green, welcoming all Death Eaters to the grandest revel ever to be held – the Dark Lord's victory revel. He swallowed, knowing what atrocities he'd see, those horrors he himself would have to commit, tonight and forever, for the rest of his life. Pretending to be the Dark Lord's right hand man – he couldn't escape that now, there was no resistance, no place to turn except death, everything had been crushed underneath Voldemort's iron fist._

 _The pain, the sorrow, the desperation almost overwhelmed him, but slowly, he entered the manor's great ballroom. It reeked of death, blood and defecation from the tortured bodies, sobs and shrieks filled the hall, and in the middle of the grand ballroom, he saw the Dark Lord finishing with a mighty thrust inside a limp, bleeding body, flinging it aside with a casual Avada. He couldn't see who it was, but the long, red hair told him it was probably a Weasley – most certainly young Ginevra, though the Dark Lord didn't always discern the male sex when he indulged in rape._

 _The cage in the corner still held people, and Severus schooled his features into his usual sneer, keeping an iron-grip on his Occlumency. Tonight was all about the defilement and destruction of the remaining Order of the Phoenix. Those in the cage were his secret allies, though they didn't know it themselves. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to save them. Nothing at all._

 _Severus walked up to the pale monster who didn't even bother to gather his robes to conceal his thin, emaciated frame and his flaccid, large cock, smears of dark blood stains all over his lower body. Kneeling, he said: "I congratulate you and salute you, my Lord."_

 _"Rise, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, "you'll be rewarded, you above all others. Your services have been vital in securing my victory. Defeating Dumbledore, holding Hogwarts, drawing out the Order, your services as my spy…" Pointing with a bony finger to the cage, the bars melted aside and a body was Levitated towards them, left hanging upside in the air beside them, the face obscured by a shock of brown hair. Still, Severus felt a gnawing suspicion inside him. Could it be…?_

 _Then the Dark Lord continued, an amused smile on his too thin lips: "I've killed Potter and Weasley, but I will allow you to destroy the last remaining of the so-called Golden Trio. Severus, I give you Potter's Mudblood. Defile her, rape her as you do so well, give us a show to celebrate my victory. And then, I'll allow you to kill her or keep her as you see fit."_

 _Voldemort flipped her over by a flick of his pale wand, and Hermione's beautiful, stricken brown eyes stared at him in horror. Severus felt his throat constrict to not let out a scream…_

… and he woke panicking, sweating, panting, heart thudding, mouth open to let out that howl of pain. Sitting in his great bed in the cold dungeons, he knew there would be no more sleep this night.

Xxxx

In the early hours of the morning, there was a knock on his door. Still unsettled by his nightmare, he wrenched it open, glaring bleary-eyed at **_her_** _. Gods, Merlin, it was good to see her alive and well, after that horrid dream._ He felt almost faint with relief, and had to fight for control to keep himself from _smiling._

Realistically speaking, he knew it had been only a nightmare, but the idea of abusing her and killing her was something he couldn't countenance. As he took in her pale face – _she also looked like she had slept too little_ – he wondered, not for the first time, if he actually _cared_ for the girl, that this was much more than lusty, lecherous thoughts from a man almost twenty years her senior. _Merlin, wouldn't that be a disaster? He was just over his obsession with Lily, and now, he had found himself someone equally unattainable._

"Morning," he said gruffly, holding the door open for her. She stepped gingerly inside, and then his heart clenched again: _She had escorted Heron to his quarters. Had she walked away, or had she entered willingly, giving her body to that sorry excuse for a Defense teacher? Even worse, had that piece of filth somehow forced her?_ He didn't think Heron would be up to anything after the thrashing Severus gave his mind last night, but in his experience: you never knew.

Scowling at her, trying to detect if there was anything out of the ordinary, any faint whiff of sex from her smell. _Maybe there was a slight scent of arousal, but he couldn't detect any male scent on her._ He said curtly: "I expect you're here about last night. Coffee?"

"Yes, please," she almost whispered, eyes large and dark as she looked at him. He busied himself by grinding the beans and brewing the coffee, and she sat still in his sofa, hands folded in her lap. Today, she wore a tight, dark grey skirt, and a thin, green, woolen sweater, clinging to her curves in ways that distracted him. _But this was it. She was here to tell him he'd be asked to leave Hogwarts, put under surveillance, go into Azkaban or…_ He sighed, and told himself to calm down. There was no way they'd send a slip of a witch on her own to send him to Azkaban, no matter how powerful and clever she was. They had to know he wouldn't go willingly.

She sipped her coffee, looking nervous. Then she cleared her throat, still not meeting his eyes, and said: "Thanks for stepping in last night. I could have handled him, but… What you did, was very effective. However…" she paused, stilling for a moment.

And he thought: _Here it comes. The suspicions, the distrust, the need to rein me in as a dangerous, dark wizard…_

Then she looked him straight in the eyes and said: "I Obliviated him, afterwards. There's something off about him, and I wouldn't want him to be able to pin a curse like that on you."

He stared at her, mouth agape. _She had what?_

Looking even more uncomfortable, she said defensively: "I hope you're not angry with me, but I think he's the kind of person to hold a grudge, and I believe proof of you using a curse like that may be troublesome for you, considering your reputation and what people are willing to believe …" she trailed off, uncertainly.

He took a moment to compose himself, sipping his coffee. Then he said slowly: "To make this clear, you _Obliviated_ Heron, to protect my reputation?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He had no idea what to say or do, and he hid himself by the curtain of his hair, taking another sip. _Could he possibly be wrong about her spying? Or was the chit even more devious than he thought, playing a deep game with him to ensure his trust?_

After a while, without concluding his inner debate, he said gruffly: "Thanks, Granger. That was thoughtful of you. I trust my interference didn't ruin your night, then?"

"Oh, no, not in the slightest," she blushed. "As you perhaps saw, I wasn't a willing participant in that kiss."

He felt enormously relieved, though he had suspected as much. And finally, he couldn't keep the silly grin off his face, and as his mouth tugged upwards – the equivalent to _beaming_ for him – he said: "Good to know, Granger." At first, she looked surprised to no end, and then she gave him a shy, hesitant smile back, something coming to light in her eyes that he so badly wanted to believe in.


	11. Holiday blues

**_A/N:_** _Thanks for reading and reviewing! A long chapter coming up, which - maybe - gives a little more insight into what Severus is hiding, as well as some ugly ghosts from his past... Please tell me what you think!_

* * *

 _ **The Daily Prophet, 19 December:**_

 _Wizengamot member Arthur Weasley calls for new election. – Weasley is a staunch supporter of Shacklebolt, says the Prophet's political commentator Ptolemy Bagshot. – I expect this is the starting point for launching a campaign for Shacklebolt to replace Croaker as Minister. Merlin knows Shacklebolt was peeved when he lost the election, and the relationship between the Auror Office and the Minister has deteriorated further since the Death Eaters once again became a threat. Croaker has lost much of his public support over this autumn, but he still has a strong base in the Wizengamot. This can go both ways, I'm sure, Bagshot says._

* * *

She had been thinking of the possibility of him having a wife and child – _no matter what Hagrid thought_ – and had felt more than a little bad about her eagerness as she stood outside his office the next morning. _Morgana, she was stupid. He had no interest in her, she had to get a grip on herself. Fawning after him like those besotted schoolgirls, and she a grown witch at that!_

When his whole face lit up in a smile, and he had said: " _Good to know, Granger,"_ she felt like Christmas had come early. In that moment, she just knew that he cared for her too. For a while, they sat still, drinking their coffee. She felt butterflies swooping happily around in her stomach, and she could barely keep from grinning.

Unexpectedly, he said: "So you and Heron… why were you out with him in the first place?" His black eyes had in an instant turned surprisingly hard, questioning her.

She gulped down a big mouthful, almost coughing in her confusion. "Umm, well…. Do you remember, I told you … I'm not all that lucky in that department, I mean, it never works out… and he, at least, was interested, and I thought, I could at least have a drink with him, and…" Blushing, she broke off, muttering: "This is a mess, forget what I said." Irritated at herself, she said: "Either they're idiots like Heron, or they are stupid fanboys who thinks that I'm Morgana returned to life. I just wanted to go out for a drink."

He snorted, and said: "The problem isn't that no one is interested in you, it's merely that no one is good enough for you. You, Granger, are a _picky_ witch."

Backtracking, she hastily said: "It's not like that! When normal wizards meet me, they all back off!"

He gave her a long, considering glance, before he said carefully: "I can see why most wizards would find you overwhelming. You are smart, powerful, and very pretty. This will result in in attention from those who are full of themselves, while anyone with even the slightest streak of insecurity would think you far above what they could hope for."

She just _knew_ she had instantly blushed from head to toe. _Gods, did Snape just call her pretty? And smart and powerful? What had happened to the man? Had he hit his head during the night?_

Softly, he said with that deep, smooth voice, she felt as if it trailed over her like a caress: "You need an intelligent wizard, who's powerful in his own right, and who's not afraid of you."

She licked her lips slowly, and thought: _Yes. I need YOU. But you, you might be off the market, or aren't you?_ Instead, she said lightly: "I never thought to get relationship advice from you, sir, but you are right, of course." Looking at him, she couldn't help adding wistfully: "Shame that there's so few such wizards available. All the good ones would seem to be taken." Her eyes almost pleaded with him, caressing his face, and she thought: _Please, tell me I'm mistaken, tell me that you're free, tell me you think of me too._

He seemed confused by the mismatch between her words and her body language, giving her a searching look. Then he said, a little bitterly: "I suppose so. Young wizards who matches your needs are often snatched up early."

She drank her coffee in silence, as she pondered: _He had obviously misunderstood her._ _If her gut feeling was to be trusted, he was disappointed, believing her to be only interested in wizards her own age, believing her to NOT be interested in him because of the age difference. Her hope was budding, and she just had to set it right. She had to tell him she was interested._

Shaking her head, she gathered her courage and jumped right in: "There are rumours about you, you know."

He arched an eyebrow, lazily, but she was sure he wasn't as confident as he pretended to be, so she barged on: "There are people in the Ministry who believe you're the new leader of the Death Eaters."

At that, he leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and steepled his hands. His face was partially obscured by his long hair, making it difficult to read his expression. Swallowing a little, he asked: "And you, what do you believe?"

She flashed him her best smile, and followed up: "Oh, I rather think you'd be perfect for that role."

He stiffened, straightening himself, looking offended, and she hurried to complete her argument: "You are powerful, brave, intelligent and cunning enough. But I don't think you're the new leader of the dark. If you actually were, I'd say they would perform better."

For maybe the first time in history, she caught Severus Snape blushing fiercely.

Xxxx

He swept along the halls, face set in his usual scowl to deter anyone from stopping him. Students jumped out of his way, and that fraud Cato Byror stepped hastily aside, pretending to have an errand into the empty fourth floor classroom, disused since the days of Galatea Merrythought and her insane experiments on how to hex a ghost. Suffice to say, the classroom was haunted enough to merit its disuse, and he smirked darkly to himself at the thought of just how shaken Byror would look at dinner. But his thoughts were on far more disturbing – and pleasant – matters.

 _The little chit had given him the most Slytherin compliment imaginable._ He was as certain as he could be, barring Legilimency, that her feelings were genuine, and she had quoted, almost verbatim, those traits he had suggested she should look for in a man – pertaining to _him. But it was hard to believe._ An older man like him, scarred, bad-tempered, with more than a touch of darkness, why would she care for him? _But if she did, who was he to deny her? There was the considerable problem of his duty, though, but still…_

"Tighnabruaich", he said impatiently to the stone gargoyle guarding the Heads' office. _Really, Minerva had to be scouring the map for small, obscure, Scottish villages for her passwords._ Grumbling to himself, as he stepped on the moving staircase, he realized that he'd have to change the password tomorrow, as the castle demanded it changing every fortnight. And the new one would, as usual, be something he'd have to rehearse with Minerva for ten minutes to get the pronunciation right. The castle was still stubborn, not wanting to acknowledge Minerva, making him set all wards and passwords. He remembered with dread the night where she had been locked out from her quarters, when she had to fetch him late to set it right.

Then he was outside her office – _HIS office –_ and he knocked, scowling a little at the _wrongness_ of it. He shouldn't have stepped down so easily. _But how was he to know that he actually didn't **like** peace and quiet?_ He'd never experienced such a thing before the war had ended. And he had been dead wrong, as peace had turned out to be more boring than marking the first year's essays.

"Enter," the Headmistress' voice called out.

He refrained from barging in as he usually did, and entered, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Glaring, he tried not to think about the offending expanses of tartan cloth covering all surfaces. _Really, had the woman gotten a new, tartan covered rug too? No wonder the castle didn't want to cooperate._

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Severus?" Minerva said with a smile.

He sat down in front of her desk – _his desk_ – and his hands came up, rubbing at his brow. "A personal matter," he said heavily. _Gods, this was probably a very silly idea. She loved her lion cub, there was no way Minerva would want an old snake like him close to her precious Princess. Still, Minerva was the closest thing to a confidant that he had. And, she was his boss. She had to know about staff fraternization – he sure would have wanted to know if his teachers went off cavorting with each other._

Steeling himself for mockery and derision, he said: "I have a problem, Minerva. It's about five feet and three inches high, and has lots of brown, bushy hair."

Minerva lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, what is your problem with Hermione?"

"I might care for her," he said, feeling very uncomfortable. He forced himself to sit still on his chair. _He would NOT fidget under her stare._

The silence stretched. "I see," Minerva said finally. "And how does Hermione feel?"

"I'm not sure. But I don't think she's as opposed to this as she should be," he said, glancing carefully at something behind Minerva's right ear. _Merlin, Dumbledore was twinkling at him from his portrait, giving him a silent thumb up._ Wrenching his eyes away the offending portrait, he let his gaze settle on Minerva. _She rather looked tired,_ he thought, _but her eyes were bright and inquisitive._

"Why should she be opposed?" The Headmistress said, giving him a curious look.

"She should have done better," he said curtly, not wanting to expound on all his shortcomings. _In his mind, he easily tallied them all: His past atrocities, his darkness, moodiness, ugliness, age, lack of previous relationships, his abundance of experience on the more … violent … side, well, in short, everything that made up Severus Snape, dark wizard extraordinaire._

"Hmmm, I agree," Minerva said, a wicked glint in her eyes. "You are too old, too grumpy and as I know you, Severus, much too possessive for a bright, young thing like her. Otherwise, I have no objection at all, neither as your employer or your friend."

He felt relieved at that, though it was as he expected, and kept his face impassively blank, still meeting Minerva's eyes.

"Do you need my blessing, Severus?" she said with an amused smile.

He gave her his trademark sneer, and said: "Of course not, Minerva. I merely wanted to sound out if there would be any difficulties."

"None," she said, shrugging. "And even less next year, when you're back in this office. Then you'll decide everything for yourself."

He threw her an exasperated look, though, truth to tell, he still thought of it as _his office._ That matter wasn't finalized, yet. His Slytherin side relished the thought of once again holding the full power of Hogwarts, this time to do what he thought was the right way to run a school, but on the other hand, it would pose practical problems. _What with his task, his all-important new responsibility? This would become a problem if – when – he became Headmaster again. He couldn't go traipsing off every weekend as Headmaster._

Xxxx

She was happy when Septima approved of her research question for her thesis.

"This will be a very intriguing research process," Septima said. "Make sure to draft that letter to the parents of the seventh year students, and Minerva and I will sign it before Christmas. The you can have a start in early January."

She was going to monitor and determine how feelings affected the choice of factors in equations, and the seventh year students would be her test subjects. And, they would be picking factors for an equation that normally would induce strong feelings, namely their chances at a lasting commitment from their love interest. Hermione felt a little queasy with the subject, but after a thorough discussion with Septima, they had landed on _love_. It had to be a strong feeling, and they both thought that encouraging the students to think about hate, anger or fear were unethical, and sorrow wasn't that easy to call forth. _Besides, all students were in love at some point or another. It was the logical solution to an emotional query._

"Your research is not only going into the _Arithmancer Chronicler_ and other, international research magazines, Septima said enthusiastically, "but also the _Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly._ I'm sure, this will popularize Arithmancy as a subject to more young people, making more students consider the subject!"

Hermione smiled weakly. _Oh yes, she was sure about that, and she was not looking forward to more press coverage. Besides, she was a coward. She would ask the students to do equations on a subject she'd never dare to do herself…_ _Who knew what kind of results she'd be getting?_

Xxxx

In the staff room, people were exchanging Christmas gifts, and the atmosphere was cheerful and relaxed. It was the annual Christmas faculty party, and several of the staff were going to leave for the holidays. The room was filled with wreaths of holly and evergreens, House-elves were baking glazed, red apples and roasting chestnuts in the fireplace. Drinks were served, smoking Dragon Eggnog to the daring, and mulled, red Elfwine for the rest.

Even Minerva was leaving to visit her family – _unheard,_ people whispered, _the Head never leaves_ – and as usual, it quickly got quite rowdy when the staff gathered without any worries as to student disturbances. This year, only a handful of students were staying, as it had been after the war. It seemed like families wanted to be close during school holidays, more so than before.

"In my absence, Severus will be acting Headmaster," Minerva announced. The silence was immediate, and Hermione saw Snape glower at the rest of the staff, hair hanging down to partially hide his face, and people avoided both his and Minerva's eyes, looking anywhere in the room except those two. _They probably had some very bad memories to battle, from his Death Eater tenure,_ she thought, feeling a pang of sympathy for them all, but most of all for him. She could barely drag her eyes away from him as it was. Her hopeful heart fluttered, and she crossed her fingers silently, making a wish, sincerely hoping he'd stay in the castle most of the Christmas holiday.

As it were, not many of the faculty were staying either, only Snape, herself, Hagrid and not surprisingly Francis Heron. She would have preferred for him to go on Christmas leave too, but then again, she'd manage, she supposed.

Suppressing a wicked smile, she looked for Cato Byron starting to exhibit signs from her modified _Impolitio_ curse. _Yes,_ she could see it! People were looking startled at Cato, withdrawing and removing themselves from his vicinity, and she heard a few, offended outbursts of "Now, really, Cato! That was uncalled for!"

She should probably not exacted a revenge like this, but … _no_. He had tried to grievously humiliate both herself, Hagrid or Snape by poisoning them with Amortentia. _There was no chance in hell she'd forgive him_. She had always been one for revenge, finding satisfaction in setting things _right_ when she and her friends had been offended. _What with Draco sodding Malfoy, sneaky Marietta Edgecombe and the pink devil-woman herself, Umbridge, and there were others, too…_ Feeling her face form into a grim, determined smile, she felt Snape's eyes on her. Oh, he was talking to Byror, and from his astonished expression turning deep scowl, the curse worked just fine. She gave him a small smirk, and he nodded almost imperceptibly at her – but not before she could see an amused smile briefly crossing his lips. As for Snape, she was sure he could give as good as he got when it came to verbal abuse. However, she felt slightly bad for the rest of the faculty, though.

Xxxx

 _That little minx!_ Cato Byror was well and truly fucked, and Severus found it all too amusing. Byror's prospects for a peaceful Christmas was now non-existent, thanks to Granger's inventive curse, and he supposed Byror would be spending quite a lot of time at St. Mungo's when his relatives had enough of the man's exceedingly foul mouth. _The Healers would be baffled, he was sure._ Almost chuckling through his less-than-pleasant exchange with Byror, he caught Granger's eyes and nodded to her.

After Byror moved on, no doubt to insult another, unsuspecting victim, Granger made her way through the throng to him. A little timidly, she pulled out a book-shaped gift from her beaded bag. He frowned a little, surely the book was too large to fit in that bag? Then it dawned on him, Granger was of course a veritable master of the Undetectable Extension Charm. _Everyone_ had read about her famously having a tent, books, potions, food and even the painting of Phineas Black in her bag while the Golden Trio were on their little camping trip during the war. He was sure most of the wizarding world would be hard put to copy that feat, and pride swelled in his chest. _She was impressive, wasn't she?_

"Happy Christmas," she said, looking nervously at him.

"Happy Christmas," he returned, making certain he showed no signs of reciprocity as he tucked the book under his arms. _He didn't want to let anyone else of their colleagues in on this, yet._ Her face fell a little, and he felt compelled to add: "You'll get your gift on Christmas morning."

That beaming smile went straight to his heart, and then it all went to shit as usual, when Rolanda suddenly pointed and laughed at them.

 _Gods no, that fucking enchanted Mistletoe!_ If they had been alone, he'd order the castle to remove it – or, if they actually had been alone, he'd rather… _Never mind_ , he chastised his dirty mind. But in a room full of people, he could neither show off his mastery over the castle or snog Granger like she deserved.

Granger's mouth was a small, round, delectable O, as she stared up at the mistletoe, and then a blush crept up on her cheeks as her eyes moved to him.

"Gather round!" Rolanda hollered, "witness the first kiss of the season!" In a lower voice, she added with glee to Minerva: "I told you so. Here with the money, already!"

Minerva pursed her lips, and pulled out a small pouch, counting out galleons. The Headmistress gave him a brief grin, and nodded to him to encourage him. _There was no honorable way out. He had to kiss Granger._

Leaning down, he let his lips touch Granger's soft mouth gently, moving his mouth against hers. To his surprise, she closed the distance, clinging to him, letting her tongue run along the seam of his lips. His breath hitched, Rolanda hooted and their colleagues clapped, and he wrenched himself free, seeing that the mistletoe had indeed fled – and Granger was looking dazed, a lovely flush spreading on her cheeks.

Xxxx

On Christmas morning, a small pile of presents was at the foot of her bed. Harry had given her a subscription of _Transfiguration Today_ and a small box of chocolate eclairs. She smiled, looking forward to keep up with research in other subjects too, silently thanking Harry for giving her a thoughtful gift. Neville and Luna had gotten her woolen mittens, charmed to stay dry no matter the weather. Her colleagues had given her mostly chocolate, and Minerva had given her a bottle of that dreadful Firewhisky her brother brewed. Septima's gift was more surprising, a black, Acromantula silk negligee, and Hermione had to smile at the card that followed:

 _You're too diligent and hard-working. Here's something for relaxation and pampering. Merry Christmas! Love, Septima._

And then there was one, large present left. _Snape's._ There was no card, and inside the green and silver wrappings _– she rolled her eyes at that –_ there was an old tome: _Construct Thy Spell to Beshrew Thine Enemies_ , by Godelot. Her eyes wide, she squealed with joy. _This was a priceless gift!_ The book was very rare, written in the late fourteenth century, and still it was considered a necessity to anyone wanting to create spells. She supposed, her modified _Impolitio_ was the reason for his choice. Then she blanched. _This must have cost a fortune, indeed._ Her gift to him would pale in comparison. _She had to thank him right away._ On top of her peach-coloured, thin pajamas shorts and sleeveless top with shoulders straps, she pulled on her new negligee to keep herself from the cold in the corridors.

Xxxx

Severus was sitting in his favorite, leather chair by the fire, long legs stretched out, enjoying the relaxed afterglow that only a good wank could give him. Still in his soft, black pajamas pants and his equally black dressing gown, he nursed a mug of coffee while perusing Granger's gift for him. He was pleasantly surprised by it: It was a thoughtful, exciting choice, a new treatise by the French, shooting star scholar Pierre Chambon on the uses of Thestral blood and hairs in defensive potion making. The binding was made of elegant, black dragon hide with golden letters, protecting the text from potion spills and spell damage.

An insistent knocking on his door made him groan. _Gods, who needed to speak with him seven thirty on Christmas morning? This better be important._ He was inclined to _not_ open the door, but then he remembered: _He was the acting Headmaster. He simply couldn't refuse to answer._

Growling to himself, he sprang up from his chair, and tore the door open. Whatever he had planned for ripping apart whoever was out there died in his throat, when a _very_ scantily dressed Granger threw herself around his neck, whispering: "Thank you, thank you!"

Swallowing heavily, he was suddenly very glad he had just tossed himself off, or else he would have had a raging erection right away. _Merlin, what was she wearing? Practically nothing! Something long and flimsy, on top of something even flimsier and … very, very short, with a deep décolletage._

He drank in the feel of her breasts, creamy skin hidden only by a thin silk top, pressed into his naked chest, and he allowed himself to put his arms around her, letting one hand rest on the small of her back and the other cradling the swell of her hip. He could feel the thin Acromantula silk of her negligee – _a tasteful black_ , he rather thought – and his hand rested on the lining of her skimpy sleeping shorts.

His treacherous, greedy cock twitched, and he stepped quickly out of her embrace, only to regret it as he saw her big, confused brown eyes. Then she whispered: "How could I ever thank you, sir? This was priceless!"

His mind immediately provided him with a lot of suggestions on how to "thank" him, and he tried to force the images down, though his cock was cheering the dirty images on.

Gruffly, he said: "Thanks to you, too. I will enjoy reading the treatise. Would you like some coffee?"

He regretted it right away, when she beamed and sauntered past him to curl up on his sofa, her tiny shorts riding up to her arse. She looked so good, and all he wanted to do was to crush her down with his weight, entering her tight quim to fuck her into oblivion… _Gods, get a grip, man! You're not fourteen anymore, you'll be forty in a matter of days._

Instead, he poured coffee into her mug, and sat down into his own chair. _And there it was again – that expression of bliss and delight on her face._ Combined with her state of undress, it became too much for him, and he had to put a quick wordless and wandless glamour on his front. Not for the first time, he thought that wizards with tiny dicks had an easier way of hiding their desires.

"It's lovely, sir," she said, and he interrupted her with a grimace.

"Maybe it's time for us to move beyond the honorific? I suggest you call me by my given name from now on."

Her eyes widened, and a grin broke out on her face, making him feel like first rays of the sun were shining on him.

"Yes, Severus," she said, her eyes filled with happiness, and he felt an odd tugging in his heart, like he had longed for her to say his name.

She chattered on, telling him how pleased she was by his gift, and his mouth quirked. _Wonder if she'd be that happy with her gift, if she had known that the book had belonged to Voldemort? Severus himself had been gifted the book from the Dark Lord on his nineteenth birthday. It had been very useful. Now, she could benefit from it. After all, it was a very intriguing text. The Dark Lord did have quite a good taste in books._

Xxxx

Snow was falling lightly on Hogsmeade, and she grinned at Severus, snow dusting his black hair and the black fabric of his cloak, covering his broad shoulders.

"Thanks for joining me," she said, as they trudged towards the warm light from the village.

In the afternoon on Boxing Day, Hermione had wanted to get out of the castle, and with Hagrid away for dinner at the Burrow, it was only her, Severus and Francis Heron left. As Heron was out of the question, she had asked Severus to accompany her to Hogsmeade for a trip to the bookshop _Spines and Ink_ , checking out the Christmas sale. Though she hadn't bothered to ask him, Heron had quickly offered to stay at school to keep an eye on things, not meeting neither hers or Snape's eyes, claiming to be busy with catching up on his marking. She supposed, there could be a residual fear after Severus attacked Heron, though it couldn't be on a conscious level after her Obliviate Charm.

The tall man beside her smiled a little, and said casually: "Hogsmeade, without any students to ruin the experience, is quite refreshing. Besides, _Spines and Ink_ does have quite an eclectic collection."

She could feel him looking down at her with a considering glance, and then, surprisingly, she felt his arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his body. Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn't pull away, merely walked alongside him, body comfortably in the hook of his arm. Her mind was another matter, because her inner self was running around in circles, yelling: _Severus is holding me in his arms, he's making an advance on me, oh yes, finally!_

She snuggled into his body, enjoying the unexpected intimacy. Closing her eyes for a moment, she felt so content, so happy, so … _fulfilled._

Entering Hogsmeade itself, the streets were almost devoid of people. Hermione supposed most people stayed with families and friends for Boxing Day, and warm lamp lights from homes and those few shops that stayed open created pools of light in the dusk. She, on the other hand, felt just as much at home in his arms as she would in front of her own fireplace.

Suddenly, a ring of dark-cloaked figures Apparated in, surrounding them, and several curses shot towards them. She threw up a shield in the same instant as Severus, and the hexes, jinxes and curses clashed horribly against their shields, making the protective force field flicker and waver.

Snape swore under his breath, turning quickly around full circle to see how many the attackers were, and shot her a quick look. "Whatever you see, keep your shield up," he snarled.

She nodded, wondering how he thought to go on an offensive against what had to be more than ten Death Eaters. "I can attack…" she shot back, wand at the ready, but he interrupted her.

"No, just keep your shield, never mind the attack!"

A large, hulking figure yelled: "You so love those little Mudblood bitches, you fucking traitor! You just can't keep away from them, can you?"

Her eyes widened, and Snape growled, casting a strong _Expulso_ in the direction of the large Death Eater. Several shields sprang up around him, but Severus' curse broke through. Though weakened, it blasted the Death Eater off his feet.

Then a smaller, female shape shouted spitefully at Hermione: "Has he fucked you yet? No? You've got something to look forward to! That giant cock of his used to make the sluts he raped scream and plead for mercy, but he never listened as he fucked them hard, again, again and again. Did you know, he was the Dark Lord's favorite rapist? You're in for an experience, Mudblood!"

Hermione felt herself blanch, and she saw Severus narrow his eyes to dangerous-looking, dark slits, throwing a deep red _Reducto_ at the woman. The woman's shield shattered, and her cloak and mask exploded into fine, ash-like fountain. The woman screamed, pulling away to hide her face, her long, strawberry-blonde hair falling down her back.

Continuously, flashes of green, red or purple curses hit their shields almost continually, but they held – barely. Hermione fought to keep up her own, and sweat broke out on her body by the effort.

Another Death Eater bellowed: "Where's the child, you fucking bastard! We know you've got her! You can't hide her, we'll find her and give her the proper upbringing a true, Death Eater child deserves!"

Hermione gasped – _a child – was it true? Did he really have a family? And the mother a Death Eater too?_

Severus furrowed his brow in concentration and rage, whispering an incantation: " _Languidus Tenebre"._ A blue flash lit up the street with a clap of thunder, leaving the Death Eaters spread on the ground around them, for all purposes looking as if they were knocked out flat.

Roughly, she was lifted off the ground, a great rushing sound filling her ear, and Hogsmeade vanished into tiny pinpricks of lights as they _soared_ away. She yelled in shock, seeing the landscape blur underneath them, the wind whistled and howled in her ears, and the temperature was freezing cold. With a thud, they landed a minute later outside a side entrance to the castle, her teeth jarring in her mouth, making her scream stop short.

She doubled over, hiding her head between her knees to fight the sudden urge to heave, ridding herself of all she had ever eaten in her life. Panting, she felt sweat pool at her nape and between her breasts from the stress and the very acute shock of being _airborne_ without support.

A tentative touch landed on her back, and Severus said: "Are you alright?"

"No," she growled. "I detest flying!" Curiously amused by herself, on the verge of hysterics, she thought: _Never mind being attacked by Death Eaters, that used to be ordinary, but a bit of flying? Hell no!_

Straightening her posture slowly, feeling her stomach slowly right itself, she looked at him. At first his expression was worried, then he composed himself, retreating behind his expressionless mask, hiding behind the strands of his black hair.

"What kind of spell was that, are they dead?" she wheezed, still hoarse and out of breath from her yelling.

"Come inside," he said, "it's safer to speak of this inside Hogwarts' walls."

She followed him in silence through the empty corridors, their boots clacking against the stone floors with a reverberating, menacing sound as they hurried along, he in full stride with his long legs, she running behind. Down into the dungeons he led her, and she was slowly regaining her senses after the wild flight. _He had attacked the Death Eaters. It had to be definitive proof for him to be on the side of the light, just like she had thought. And the mention of the child – it just proved that the Death Eaters were after his family, too. Gods, he really **had** a family. He really WAS out of bounds for her. _She felt awful, on the verge of crying, and she just couldn't understand why he would come on to her like that.

 _But what they had said… Had he really done those things in his years as a spy – raped women repeatedly? Was she really safe with him if this was true?_ She shuddered, feeling cold and queasy, scared, even.

Entering his quarters, she hesitated at the doorstep before walking in, mustering all her Gryffindor courage. _He was no more dangerous now, than he had been yesterday. Besides, him being a rapist might not be true, but a nagging voice in her mind told her that somehow, it was._

Still striding forward, he drew his wand with a sudden movement – _she flinched, hoping he didn't notice –_ casting: " _Expecto Patronum!"_. A large, silvery doe burst forth, and he gave it a message: " _To Kingsley Shacklebolt: Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade, group of ten is unconscious on the ground. Hurry before they wake, you have fifteen minutes._ " The doe flashed through the wall, gone in an instant, and Snape sagged a little.

"This calls for a large whisky," he said gruffly, standing by his desk, pulling out a bottle from a drawer. He filled a tumbler almost to the brim with smoking, golden liquid, before thrusting the glass at her without asking nor looking at her. Pouring himself an equally stiff drink, he slumped into a chair, dragging his hand through his greasy hair.

Hermione sat gingerly down on the sofa, nipping at her too-large Firewhisky. "What was that spell?" she inquired again.

He laughed short, mirthlessly, and said: "Something those addlebrained twits didn't expect. They think all high-level dark magic died with the Dark Lord, but that is not the case. Those morons were merely to far down on the ladder for the Dark Lord to bother teaching them anything."

"And you were not," she stated, almost tonelessly, brow furrowing. She shuddered again.

"Just so," he said, inclining his head a fraction to her, black eyes expressionless as he watched her, unblinking.

Hermione swallowed. Rationally, she _knew_ very well that he had been Voldemort's right hand man, but still it made her nervous to just think about it. Though, no matter how uncomfortable she felt, it couldn't curb her burning curiosity. Hesitantly, she asked: "And you… learned a lot of spells from him?"

The dark man sitting across her nodded quietly. Then he said: "The Dark Lord had more to him than Crucio'ing his followers, at least before he was defeated the first time. He shared his immense knowledge of magic with those he deemed worthy. It was a thrill." His eyes became a little unfocused, unseeing, as he continued: "A thrill to learn all those spells and theories, a thrill to be _chosen_ , to be exalted." His eyes became sharp, focused, again, and he added with a humourless grimace: "Before it all went to hell, as you very well know."

She nodded mutely, understanding that for one such as he – or herself – the access to all that knowledge would be invaluable. _Priceless._

Severus sighed, scouring his eyes with his fists, and said heavily: "The curse knocks them out more fully than a stunner. They stay unconscious for a little less than twenty minutes, immovable, and then they wake up. If Kingsley gets there in time, it will be a walk in the park for the Aurors to rein them in."

"Did you know them, sir?" she asked, eyes downcast, fixed on the golden, smoking liquor in her glass. _Stupidly enough, she didn't like prying in his past experiences, though she had so many questions._

"With time, we learned to recognize many of the regulars, no matter the cloak or masks. These are, as I said, low-level Death Eaters. They were of no importance before, and I suspect they are cannon fodder this time too," he said rather callously. "Whoever their leader is, I'm sure he or she knew they would be hard pressed to match the two of us."

She swallowed again, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. "It was a deliberate attack on us, then?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Of course, it could just be a random attack in Hogsmeade, but I rather think them Apparating almost on top of us is a little too convenient."

Blanching, she felt as if she wanted to curl up to protect herself. _Gods. Who knew they were going to Hogsmeade? Heron? Could HE be a Death Eater? Or a student?_ She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, mind reeling. "Who told them?" Her voice was much too steady, surprising herself.

He shrugged. "A Death Eater, I suppose. A fairly new one, or someone with a Death Eater acquaintance, trading information."

"Someone at Hogwarts," she stated, face seriously.

He shot her a quick glance, mouth quirking, and said: "Yes. It's not that surprising. The Dark Lord had a lot of supporters, and many weren't that vocal about it."

For a while, they sipped at the Firewhisky in silence. Again and again, Hermione's thought turned to what the female Death Eater had shouted. _Was Snape really a rapist? She wanted to believe it was not so, but still…_

The whisky took hold of her as she got deeper into her cups, and finally, she blurted out: "Severus, what did you do, as a Death Eater?"

Annoyingly enough, he rolled his eyes, saying exasperatedly: "What do you _think_ , Hermione?"

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she considered him for a while before answering: "Logically, I think you did everything a Death Eater would do." At that, she saw him wince slightly, and she realized, he had more vivid impressions of what that could mean than herself. Continuing, she said slowly: "However, I _want_ to believe you did nothing at all, but that is clearly not the truth."

He looked at her for a long time, before he answered bitterly: "I suppose you're asking because of what that _bitch_ , Avery's daughter, yelled at you."

"Avery's daughter…" she whispered, feeling even more queasy. "Is that Jemina Avery, four years ahead of me?"

"Yes," he almost spat. "That stupid, little bint, only following her family's orders, never an original thought in her feeble mind."

"Well," she said, feeling very unsure, "I suppose that's why I asked." She knew, her eyes were pleading with him, hoping against hope that he had _not_ been, as Jemina Avery had shouted, Voldemort's favorite rapist _._ No matter if he was an adulterer, it was a hundred times worse to fall in love with a rapist.

Suddenly, he chugged down the rest of his Firewhisky, saying with determination: "I did _everything_ you can imagine, and then some more." He slammed the tumbler onto the table, and rose from his chair, heavily, to fetch the bottle standing on his desk.

She pressed her eyes shut, asking weakly: "So you tortured, killed, maimed and raped?"

He said stiffly, while pouring himself another, large shot: "Yes."

Shaking her head, she said: "Somehow, killings should be worse than rape, but I just can't understand how anyone would be able to do that to a woman."

"I really don't want to talk about this, Hermione." His voice was biting, his face was forbidding, and his scowling signaled a breakout of his famous anger.

" _That_ I understand," she said hurriedly. "But you, Severus … I like talking to you and spending time with you, and I see you as a honorable man, who's spent _years and years_ protecting people. I just don't understand … How can you even function physically to do such an act?"

Had anyone asked her half an hour ago, she would vehemently have denied that Severus Snape could _squirm_. It was plain as the day, that he really didn't want to talk about this.

Xxxx

 _Gods. Hermione Granger with her questions. Had the witch no limits at all, no sense of what was beyond socially acceptable? Would she ask him next how it felt to force himself to orgasm inside an unwilling, dry cunt?_

He almost laughed with bitter amusement, because he really, really didn't want her to know that there was a part of Severus Snape that had managed to get off on suffering and pain. _What would she think of him if she knew? It was obvious, though, that she suspected it – and she hated it. Hated **him**._

Instead, he pulled himself together, saying: "There was a reason for why I became a Death Eater, Hermione. I'm not a good guy. Just leave it at that."

Surprisingly enough, the little witch teared up, and she grasped his hand, crushing it fiercely in her small, dainty fist, sniffling silently.

Glaring at her like she had offended him, he opted for keeping quiet. _Nothing good would come out of this conversation. In fact, if it wasn't for the alert to Kingsley, he would seriously have considered to Obliviate her. This was … not … the kind of knowledge he wanted her to have. A honorable man, indeed._

She emptied her glass, reaching out a hand, and he refilled it, once again to the top. _He had no idea how an inebriated Hermione would act, but they both deserved a drink tonight. Or three._

Silence stretched, and he tried to keep still under her worried, but somehow _caring_ gaze.

The clock ticked, and he wondered if Kingsley had secured the Death Eaters yet. He hoped so, but realized that with the current no-information policy the Ministry operated under, he would probably have to read about what happened in the _Prophet_.

Suddenly Hermione said, her voice ringing out loudly in the stillness: "If Voldemort had won, what would you have done?"

He blinked. _If the Dark Lord won… Gods, what a nightmare. Just like the one he had, where he was commanded to abuse her._ Clearing his throat, he said roughly: "Nothing, Hermione."

Her eyes widened, and she looked hurt for a moment. "But would you have continued to fight against him?"

Severus sighed, and said more gently: "If the Dark Lord had won, everyone still alive in the Order would have firmly believed that I was his right hand man. There would be no one to collaborate with, because no one would trust me. I could either kill myself, or keep up my part to survive."

She paled a little, and then she honed in on his nightmare. "If I was captured, would you have tried to save me?" Her big, golden-brown eyes were hopeful, almost pleading with him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and decided to go for the truth. "Do you really want to know? You might have found death easier than survival."

"Yes, I would like to know. Why?" she said, eyes searching his face.

Severus grimaced, and said grimly: "Do you remember what I told you about the Dark Lord? I suspect he would have taken you for himself. If so, I couldn't have saved you from his attentions. However, if he didn't, or if he lost interest in you after a while, he might have gifted you to me."

She looked a little shocked, and he pressed on to make his point: "As a slave, Hermione. A body slave. You might survive, but I would have had to keep up the façade. It would not be pleasant, and very public. And yes, I do believe I would have asked for you to save your life."

Her big brown eyes grew, and she blushed fiercely, averting her eyes. And then she rose and fled his quarters.

Severus started out of his chair, as if he would stop her, but when the door slammed behind her, he threw his tumbler in the fireplace instead, yelling: "FUCK!" as the glass shattered, and the Firewhisky made the flames flare up.

Xxxx

She had taken to keep to her room, not running the risk of meeting him again. Because, what would she say? Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of confusion, and her mind and heart ached. _Severus_ _the Death Eater, Severus_ _the Order spy, Severus_ _the vicious killer, Severus_ _the secret protector, Severus_ _the evil git, Severus_ _the hero…_ At the centre of the vortex two opposites warred: _Severus_ _the rapist and Severus_ _the lover – and family man._

She hadn't asked him about what the Death Eaters had meant when they shouted about him hiding the child, being too preoccupied with the idea of him as a rapist. Now, she scolded herself. _She had known, hadn't she? And still, she had let herself look away from what she knew about him having a family, letting his apparent interest in her overrule her good sense._

 _What was his defining traits in her eyes? What kind of person did she believe he was?_ Hermione felt a nagging worry that all epithets were equally true. Could she have let herself care for a wizard who had this level of complexity? And moreover, could she really trust a man who had, admittedly, raped women, tortured people and killed, and was obviously willing to cheat on his wife too? She felt sick by her earlier fantasies and dreams of him being sexually dominant. That was all well and good with a willing partner, but how could she let herself enjoy something like that with a man who had violently dominated, defiled and subjugated women for _real?_ She had to rein herself in and step back. _Hermione Granger was not about to become the "other woman". She would purge those emotions from her mind and heart._

Xxxx

 _Hermione had locked herself up for days._ Severus understood quite clearly that after this, Hermione would never care for him, and that she probably was disgusted with herself for ever letting him touch her. It was blatantly obvious that she was frightened, and there wasn't a thing he could do to reassure her. The truth was the least reassuring part of it all. Once again, Severus Snape was weighed, measured and found wanting. _He was not good enough for a real relationship. And gods, it hurt, this time too. Why, why, why had he ever been so stupid as letting himself care for another witch?_ Downing his Sober-up Potion quickly, at least the physical discomfort of being roaring drunk disappeared. He couldn't go around the castle as acting Headmaster while being pissed, though Merlin knew he had been drinking too much that year when he actually was Headmaster. _But now, the pain inside overrode anything he could think to digest, unless he would douse himself on the Draught of Living Death. He wasn't there – yet._

He had tried another Patronus to Shacklebolt, but received no answer. _What was wrong with these people? Didn't they even answer a direct question?_ The _Prophet_ had, of course, nothing on the attack at all. He only hoped the Aurors had managed to catch the Death Eaters in time. They were on to him, and to _her_ , and he wanted to stop those threats effectively, and sooner rather than later.

On New Years Eve, he left early to get there before _she_ went to bed _._ He warded his quarters, and snuck outside, Apparating from just outside the gates. It was freezing cold, and the snow crackled under his feet as he landed at his destination, preparing himself to cast even stronger wards on the perimeter. Very soon, he would have to move them, making their dwelling place into a proper safe house, and that meant he had to bring _someone_ in as a Secret Keeper. Finishing the warding, he opened the gates, the iron joints creaking ominously in the low temperature. The garden was filled with piles of snow shaped into odd figures and forms, like a ceramist going insane.

And then _she_ was there, running as fast as her stubby, little legs could go, throwing herself at him, play wand in hand, burrowing her little face into his neck as he lifted her up, squealing in delight. He breathed in the smell of her, the clean smell of a small child, and smiled into her hair.

"Miss'd you," she said, her large, dark eyes honing in on him with that frightful intensity he had come to both expect, fear and cherish. Those eyes, like she could see inside his very soul. _Maybe she could, at that._


	12. Rumours

**_A/N:_** _Thanks for reviewing, favoriting and following! This is still slightly on the dark and depressing side, but don't worry, things are looking up. Personally, I feel a bit bad about his birthday. The timeline decided it had to be like this…_

* * *

 ** _The Daily Prophet, 8 January 2000:_**

 _Severus Snape, War-Hero and First Order of Merlin, turns forty tomorrow. When will he SETTLE down?_

 _The strict Hogwarts teacher and famous spy, Severus Snape is about to hit a midlife crisis. Everyone is familiar with his tragic life story and lost love, but in the year after the war, scores of witches have become quite intimately acquainted with our mystery man. When will he be ready to settle down?_

 _We spoke to one of the numerous witches sharing his bed:_

 _\- It was the best sex of my life, an anonymous witch tells our reporter, eyes starry and dreamy as she reminiscences about her night with the stern war-hero. – Though, he made it clear in no uncertain terms that he wasn't interested in anything long-term. When he comes around, there's going to be one lucky witch out there._

* * *

Hermione kept herself alone as much as possible. She hadn't stopped by for morning coffee in Snape's office since _that_ night. She hid behind the newspaper or books during meals. She did not argue with anyone in staff meetings, and she avoided the staff room altogether. Both Minerva and Septima watched her, she could tell, and Snape himself seemed to be scowling even more than usual, though he kept his distance too. _And that hurt her, even though she wanted the distance herself._ She felt awful, and she just couldn't seem to root him out of heart.

Whenever anyone asked, she made a habit of smiling weakly, saying: "There's so much to read. I just want to get on top of my studies."

At lunch, she gave one Severus Snape a glare that made him raise his eyebrows at her. As someone mentioned his birthday, she felt a strong twinge inside, feeling acutely the loss of companionship and what she had thought was budding relationship. _But no, that_ _was out of the question._ _A former rapist with a family – one couldn't get a worse idea for a love interest than that. And he, that bastard, encouraging her when even the Death Eaters knew he had a kid! That article in the Prophet about his promiscuous sex life was just the icing on the cake._

She would not make any effort to congratulate him on his birthday. _She just couldn't – she was afraid to fall into his arms again, wanting his touch, never letting go of him._ Resolutely, she decided to stay away from the staff party Minerva threw for his fortieth birthday, dousing herself with Dreamless Sleep again to avoid thinking about him.

But when she dreamt, it was still hot and steamy, though if she woke _before_ she orgasmed, she ran a cold shower instead of indulging herself. She felt truly sick and ashamed those times she woke, hot and bothered, gasping his name in the throes of her climax.

Rationally, she realized that Severus may have been forced spend years doing atrocious things by courtesy of Lord Voldermort, and by definition by Dumbledore himself, who had sent his spy out to immerse himself in the Death Eater circles. But she couldn't help wonder, _had he wanted this – the torture, the rapes and the killings, or was he disgusted by it?_ The thought sickened her, even though her doubt was gnawing on her. _Could the man she knew had wanted to do such things, or was he as much of a victim in an awful situation?_

Weeks went by in this fashion, and she wondered: _Why didn't the Ministry published news of catching ten Death Eaters at once?_ _It would have been great news, strengthening the public's belief in the Ministry's ability to combat the resurgence, giving hope to fight the despair and uneasiness people felt._

She had fun with her training in Filius' sixth year Charms class, though, and the students were interested, eager to learn and mostly polite.

The small Professor was worried about her, and he asked her, time and time again in his squeaky voice: "Are you quite sure you are happy with everything, Hermione? I think you look a little off, a little less spirited, not quite yourself."

Every time, she answered politely: "You know me. I go all-in on my interests, and I have to admit, these days, I sleep too little and read too much."

Flitwick frowned at her, and tried to cheer her up as best he could – the highlight, or more correctly the low point – came when his class had rehearsed a _song_ to cheer her up, each had to keep track of a Charm dividing their voice into four harmonies. Her smile felt like it was plastered on her face, and she ached to scowl at someone, as the sixth years were singing all twelve verses of " _Drive the cold winter away_ ", while smiling beatifically to her. _She wanted to hex them all into oblivion, and Filius Flitwick would go headlong into the frozen lake, if she had a choice._ "Cross out of thy books malevolent looks" _indeed,_ she snorted to herself.

Then, by the end of January, the _Prophet_ sported an article with a photographed sighting of a Death Eater, recognized to be Avery's daughter. At that, she shared a worried glance with Snape, and she could clearly see that he too was in the dark as to why Jemina Avery still was on the loose. _Hadn't Kingsley reacted to Snape's Patronus?_

Xxxx

Her research was going splendidly, at it seemed the seventh year Arithmancy class were eager to help, working diligently on their task. Of course, the selection was rather small, with only nine students in the class, but Septima had agreed to let her research be the main project for the class in January.

"You're doing fine, Hermione," her Mistress said soothingly, with that irritating, comforting voice she had adopted after Christmas. _Hermione hated it. She was NOT a frail flower, requiring soft voices and no criticism._ She refrained from scowling at her Mistress, though, and made herself smile in return, though she surmised that the effect was poor and not very reassuring. Basically, she showed Septima all her teeth, not really giving off a friendly smile.

The students were required to set up an equation on the chances of a long-lasting commitment from their love interest, and it resulted in both giggling, nervous anticipation and red-faced students. Hermione monitored their choice of factors for their equations, and her curiosity was piqued by their varied choices. Some valued the strength of family ties, plans for the future and social status, while others relied solely on attraction, common interests or mutual friends.

"It's important that he's a hereditary member of the Wizengamot too," said a snooty young Ravenclaw girl, nodding sagely at Hermione. She barely stifled a laugh, and asked politely for her reasoning.

"Because then he'll know my family's way of lifestyle," the girl explained, looking at Hermione as if she was inherently stupid.

"And that is your determining factor, knowing what kind of lifestyle you'll expect?"

"Yes," the girl said brightly, and coloured slightly as she whispered: "I'm talking about my cousin. He's three years older than me, and well on his way with his political career."

In a way, Hermione felt relieved. After all, it seemed less callous that the girl had matched her factors to a man she cared for, rather than matching the man to the factors.

But no one suggested the factor she herself felt to be important – the unpredictability of the heart. _Because why else would she fall head over heels for a former Professor, nineteen years older than herself, not being able to quell her emotions, even though she had a very good reason?_

Later on, she was planning to use this information to narrow her research questions and form a hypothesis. Then she would move on to interview the rest of the seventh year students outside the Arithmancy class, asking them what they would consider most important for a future relationship, before finally, Hermione would run those equations herself for all students, predicting the likelihood of the factors in determining the results. _And_ , she decided, _it was going to be fun, no matter how lackluster and sad her own love life was._

Xxxx

Severus felt like he was just going through the motions of teaching and outwardly being his snarky self. He missed Hermione, and it hurt to know that he had been rejected once again. It was almost like a palpable pain in his chest. As painful as it was to see her so despondent and her mood so bleak, it made him also feel _good_ that her feelings for him was strong enough to make her react like that. He contemplated trying to woo her back, but decided against it. _After all, that hadn't worked the last time he was after a Gryffindor witch_ , he thought bitterly.

He had to wonder if her mission to spy on him had ended. She certainly didn't seem interested in following up on his activities. _Maybe the Christmas incident, him being attacked and retaliating against the Death Eaters had been enough to clear his name? Really, it should, but somehow, he doubted that._

Severus dreaded the day when she would move on, and he didn't know how he would react if he found her in Hogsmeade again, all dressed up to find herself a wizard. He had lost it well and truly when he found Heron with his tongue down her throat before Christmas. In this sole respect, he found that the Death Eater attacks were a good thing, as she was not likely to venture out from the castle alone.

He, on the other hand, had no such qualms, and he paid a visit to Lucius on Friday night.

"Hello, Severus," the blonde man said, a little nervously, as he brushed off the Floo powder on Lucius' forest-green carpet. He gave the Malfoy patriarch a friendly pat on the shoulder, before sitting down in the wing chair opposite to Lucius.

The man gestured to the table between them, and Severus filled himself a tumbler of Mortlach whisky. With a nod to Lucius, he savoured the taste of the golden year of 1938, wondering how those Muggles had brewed something far more superior than the vile brew Minerva's brother had created. "Any news on Rabastan?", he asked.

"Are you still doing _that_?" Lucius said, distaste marring his features. "You certainly got their attention. Young Nott told Draco that his father says Rabastan has gone into hiding, and no wonder, as they didn't even _find_ Mulciber junior. How come he didn't become another Skeeter home delivery?" With malicious glee, Lucius added: "You didn't mess up, Severus? Not you, surely?"

"I'm afraid there was nothing left to pack and deliver," he said, meeting the grey eyes of his friend with a cocked eyebrow. "Unfortunately, he exploded. I trust they found the room?"

Lucius barked a laugh. "They bloody well did, as you can imagine. Theodore says Mulciber senior is almost frantic, demanding searches to check if he's still alive, hidden away somewhere, but then he doesn't move much himself, due to his arthritis. But I do have a surprise for you, Severus. One could almost say it is a belated Christmas present."

Leaning forward, he said: "Well?", feeling excitement bubble in his veins. _Would he have another weekend of manhunting, this time with more than one target?_

"Oh yes, you'll love this. Our ever diligent source of knowledge says Rabastan has moved into Muggle London. He's currently living in Croydon, on top of a curry house, posing as a drug dealer."

Severus threw his head back and laughed for a full minute, tears almost forming in his eyes as he clutched his stomach. _This was priceless. Too priceless – it had to be a trap._

"Nice try from our former friends," he wheezed, "can you ever believe Rabastan going Muggle?"

"No," Lucius said with a mischievous smile, "but that laugh was worth a Christmas present or two, wasn't it?"

"Absolutely. I only wish it was true. However, I do have a good lead on Rookwood. He has a summer house on the Scilly Isles, and the wards I've set around the property chimed last night. Why don't you join me, Lucius? I know you never liked him, after he thwarted your motion for decreased regulations on overseas transactions back in the summer of 1981. No one is going to notice a thing, and I'd appreciate help in wrapping up another present for Skeeter."

Xxxx

On a Sunday morning at breakfast, she didn't even have to sit down to look at the _Prophet_ to realize they had printed another atrocious picture. The retching of several students as she passed through the Great Hall told her to brace herself. Quite correctly, the _Prophet_ ran a story with detailed pictures of a very dead and mangled Augustus Rookwood. Once again, the dead Death Eater was delivered to Skeeter, this time with another unauthorized Port-key to her office desk, a Ministry sigil forced down his throat, making the skin on his jugular stand out in a gruesome flesh negative of the Ministry's sigil. Apparently, the man had died before this was done to his body, but still she shuddered at the abject cruelty.

Avoiding the staffroom, but needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of her own, cramped and lonely quarters, she hid herself in the library. Her towering piles of books made her desk into a fortress, and her glare encouraged all students to stay away. As she heard Francis Heron, Cato Byror and Marius Gewerryn chat in the nearby Restricted Section, she quickly Disillusioned herself. The last thing she wanted was another attempt at their advances towards her.

Francis said insistently: "Marius, you have to see this. Snape is fucking us all over, I'm sure he's the new leader of the Death Eaters. Think about it: His position, his knowledge, his temper, for Merlin's sake, and how he spends almost every single weekend away from Hogwarts."

"I don't know," Marius said slowly. "I can see what you mean, but what does Minerva say?"

Francis scoffed. "Minerva…! She adores him, he's her golden boy. They all feel so bad about how they treated him when he was Headmaster, so no one will say a thing against him, even though the evidence is glaring us in the face!"

Cato Byror made a noise, indicating his support of Heron's argument, but Marius said slowly: "I see what you mean, but I think you misunderstand the rest of the staff. My Aurora says…"

The voices moved away from her, but in the days after the incident, she couldn't help noticing that both Marius Gewerryn and Aurora Sinistra seemed less friendly towards Snape. _And it made her angry – he didn't deserve that. He might have done awful things, but he was not evil._

Xxxx

His muscles were sore and stiff after a long, late-night brewing stint in his laboratory. The sludgy consistence of the Burn Healing Paste required vigorous stirring for exactly 53 minutes, and when brewed in a large batch like he did for the Infirmary, it was hard work. As he walked from the dungeons up to the teachers' swimming pool, he worked his shoulder blades, trying to loosen the knots.

The corridors were cold and dark, the chill from the February cold seeping in through the stone walls, and he hurried to get to the warmth of the bathroom, looking forward to immerse himself into the large pool.

The tiled room was steamy and damp. The large pool was hidden around the corner, and here, by the entrance, there were dark, wooden benches where one could leave clothes and towels while bathing. The slate-grey walls and floor were lit up by a soft light, stemming from floating globes swaying softly with the tendrils of steam from the bath.

Stepping inside, he realized that there was someone there, already. _A witch. Moreover, a witch doing something she had no rights to do in a public bath._ Though he should have walked away, leaving his colleague to her amusements, he Disillusioned and Silenced himself, sneaking forward to find out who it was, his curiosity winning out. Turning the corner, he felt the sight like a punch to his stomach, stealing the air from his lungs. _It was her._

There she was, naked as the days she was born, head slung backwards, wild hair in a bun, eyes closed, and her right hand was vigorously rubbing her sex, while her left hand caressed her nipples. Severus swallowed, his cock going rigid instantly. _He could see her rosy nipples, wet with droplets above the water. The bubbles had been chased away by her movements, and he caught a tantalizing glimpse of pink lips and dark hair between her legs, though it was mostly obscured by her hand. Narrow waist, smooth, creamy skin, firm yet soft tits…_

Severus swallowed. _This was wrong, especially as the witch didn't want anything to do with him, but oh, this was too sexy – her pleasuring herself..._ He stood rooted to the spot, knowing that he should sneak away, but he just couldn't seem to move, as sweat beaded on his brow from the heat in the room. Instead he parted his robes, freeing his cock, and he stroked himself in time with her rubbing her slit. His breath became heavy, and he knew his release was imminent. _To see her like that, so hot, so aroused, touching herself…_ Granger's moans became more frantic, and her movements faster, and with a groan, he spilled himself, his seed splashing down in front of him.

In the pool, she came with little shrieks and moans, and he stiffened: _Did she just moan his name?_ He was not quite sure, but he thought so, and happiness streaked through him. _Yes, she still thinks of me!_ Swallowing, he suddenly realized that his load had fallen outside the perimeter of his Disillusionment. _Gods, he should clean that up, but he couldn't risk it._ Strangely enough, he felt a little aroused by the thought of Granger stepping unknowingly into his pool of cum. Chuckling to himself, he silently withdrew, as _she_ sank down into the pool with a satisfied and very sexy sigh.

Xxxx

The Three Broomsticks was half filled with patrons, and the interior felt nice, warm and cozy after the severe January cold. As she ordered her round at the counter, she heard two witches whisper about Snape.

One of the witches, a small brunette, whispered: "Snape, the new leader… Always been rather dark… Should've known…"

The other witch, a tall, leggy blonde, with that ripe beauty that signaled the transition from youth to middle age, giggled. "Gods, I bedded him, you know."

The first witch made a fake, outraged sound, and the blonde continued: "Oh, he was so good. Rough, so dominant, just the way I wanted it."

The first witch winked at her friend, saying: "Did you continue this..?"

"No," the blonde said regretfully. "He made it quite clear that it was a one-time thing."

Hermione frowned, feeling jealousy bloom in her chest. Without thinking, she lobbed a quick _Dia-horr-iblia_ at their glasses, successfully convincing herself that if those witches didn't recognize such a first-year spell by taste and smell, they'd deserve whatever came their way.

Feeling a tad more relaxed, but oh-so-much more ashamed, she sat down at the table with Harry, handing him his beer.

"What's with the dark countenance?" Harry said with a smile.

"I just heard those witches" – she indicated the bar with her head – "spreading rumours about Snape as the new, dark leader," she said darkly.

Harry winced. "Oh, _that_ ," he said.

"Yes, _that_ ," she said angrily. "Because what did your boss do about those ten fucking Death Eaters that Snape handed to you on a plate? Jemina Avery, at least, is running around free!"

Harry's face was incredulous. "What..?" he gaped.

"Yes! He and I were attacked on Boxing Day in Hogsmeade, and he Stunned them with a rather nifty spell. Afterwards, he sent a Patronus to Kingsley, telling him where they were and how much time he had before the spell wore off."

The skeptical look on her friend's face made her bristle: "I saw it, Harry! I was there."

Harry looked worried, and flicked a Muffiliato around them.

"Hermione, you are quite sure?" his face was earnest, and those green eyes were imploring her for honesty.

"Absolutely. It was ten to the two of us. And the Patronus was specifically to seek out Kingsley with the message."

"I've never heard about this," Harry said, clearly unsettled. "At least, we haven't caught any Death Eaters in more than eight months."

"Why?" Hermione said slowly. "People obviously see them all the time. Why can't the Aurors catch them?"

"You tell me," Harry mumbled. Straightening himself, he said: "I know Kingsley is very worried about the situation with the Minister. Lowering his voice even further, he hid his mouth to avoid any potential lip reading: "The thing is, the Minister is just as worried about the Auror Office specifically. He told me, just before Christmas. And I don't know what to believe anymore."

Hermione felt her eyes widen, and she blanched. "Surely not an Auror…" she whispered.

Harry shrugged, and said: "It's certainly someone in the Ministry, I think, so I'm still not in favour of it being Snape. But he might be a convenient scapegoat for that _someone_."

They drank in silence for a while, and then Harry said: "That's why I'm here, you know. The Minister is coming to Hogwarts for an official visit in the middle of February."

Xxxxx

Minerva was walking slowly through the corridor, feeling that ache in her knees that not even Poppy's spells or Severus' potions could alleviate. _Bugger the arthritis_ , she thought vehemently, as she stopped to rest her joints. Young Granger came barreling through the corridor, and Minerva narrowed her eyes. _Something wasn't right with the girl. Had she had a run in with Severus? They obviously weren't friendly anymore._

"Hermione," she called out, and the girl stopped in front of her, smiling politely. "Would you join me in my office, please?"

"Certainly," the girl said, smiling at her, but her face showed her surprise. They walked in silence to the gargoyle, and Minerva gave the password gruffly: " _Lochgilphead"._ Secretly, she smiled by the thought of the effort she made Severus put into pronouncing those Scottich village names for setting her wards. _His face, his immaculate spy countenance, invariably cracked up into disbelief and exasperation when she informed him of her new passwords._

The staircase spiraled up, and they entered the Heads office. Minerva felt soothed by seeing so much of her clan's tartan – _it felt like her childhood home_ – and she sat heavily down on the small sofa by the window, motioning the Hermione to sit down too.

"What happened?" She opted to go for Gryffindor bluntness, asking the girl straight out.

The girl's eyes widened, and she answered innocently: "Well, my research is going fine, and I've been so busy preparing it. I'm fine, thank you, just a little tired."

Minerva snorted, and said drily: "Indeed." Cocking her head, she studied the girl. A blush crept over her cheek, and Minerva gave her a lopsided smile. "Not a good liar, are you lassie?"

Hermione drew herself up, indignantly, preparing to answer, but Minerva interrupted her. "What went wrong between you and Severus?"

The girl paled, and whispered: "How did you know?"

She rolled her eyes, and replied: "Great gods, girl, do you think I'm blind? Besides, I know for a fact he was interested."

Hermione furrowed her brow, staring at her. "He told you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. He came asking if there would be any problems due to formalities."

"Oh," the girl said, clearly confused. Her pretty little face was all scrunched up, Minerva noticed, and her light brown hair seemed to frizz even more than usual in her bewilderment.

Gently, she said: "Severus has been forced to do a lot of unpleasant things in his life, suffering from manipulations and outright abuse. He deserves some happiness. When he came to ask me about this, I was very happy on behalf of both of you. That's why I'm sorry to see there's trouble between the two of you."

Hermione shook her head slowly, and she said: "I know, really, I do. It's just not … something I can wrap my head around all that easily. It's both terrifying and disgusting, really. And there's the other thing. Surely, you must know… You've known him for so long..."

"What," she replied, "I'm not all that patient with riddles, Hermione. You'd do better telling me straight out."

"He has a family, a kid," the lass said with conviction.

Minerva felt her jaw fall down in shock. "What?" she almost screeched. "I've never… It can't be true!"

And she was very sure it couldn't be. She had known Severus Snape for twenty-nine years, and she was reasonably sure that he'd never had the time nor the inclination to start a family. But, however, she had her suspicions on how Hermione would come to such a conclusion. _Yes, that would be just the kind of thing Severus would be up to, to the detriment of his own happiness. Stupid bloke, so self-sacrificing that he wouldn't know happiness even if it kissed him on his arse._

Clearing her throat, she peered at Hermione. The girl looked despondent, and bore all the marks of a lovesick fool. Minerva snorted, but reined herself in.

"Hermione," she said as gently as she could. "I believe you might have misunderstood something important. Have you actually talked to Severus about this?"

The girl reddened, and she mumbled: "No, it was obvious, has been for a while, really."

Minerva scoffed, and replied: "Don't let your pride and stubbornness stand in the way of something good, lassie. Talk to him, let him explain what this is. Whatever this is, it's not what you believe."

Hermione lifted her big, brown eyes to meet her gaze, and Minerva was struck by how the fluttering hope completely transformed the girl's face. "Do you really believe so?" she whispered. "Because I've been worried about doing something immoral and wrong, coming on to a married man."

Minerva smiled at her, thinking once again that if she had had a daughter, she would have wanted for the girl to turn out like Hermione, lovesick or not. "I'm reasonably sure, Hermione," she replied, "but with a man like Severus, as you surely realize, one can never be certain unless he tells you himself." _And,_ Minerva vowed herself, _she would make him tell her. Severus having a kid! What a preposterous notion._

Xxxx

The Minister arrived with an escort of ten Aurors, while more had scouted the castle before his arrival. The students were gathered in the courtyard, as the Apparition wards were lifted to allow the Minister and his guard to Apparate straight into the grounds. As the air _cracked_ around them, Severus shot a quick look at Minerva. He knew she loathed to pretend to control the castle like this.

He gave her a reassuring nod, and she returned a brief smile to him. The castle had grudgingly let down the wards, not being comfortable with lowering the defenses, but it trusted him. _Somewhere, deep inside, he felt an odd swelling of something that could be pride. If he wasn't trusted by the women his stupid heart chose to set its sights on, at least the dratted castle, supposedly only letting the best witches and wizards through to the Head's chair, had chosen HIM._

Potter was of course Apparating in first, and the students cheered him on. Severus sighed at the sight of that unruly hair and those spellotaped glasses – _really,_ _what did the wizard do to his glasses?_ – and he gave him his best sneer as a "welcome". _He did not feel obligated to like Potter, even though he had gone out of his way to save the Boy Wonder._

The moron waved happily at Severus and Minerva, as he moved out of the small, roped-off square set up for the Apparitions. After a few more Aurors, the Minister himself entered the square. The cheers were more subdued, but Severus had his suspicions: More than half of them likely didn't know what the Minister looked like. He met Kingsley Shacklebolt's eyes over the head of the short, stocky Minister. In those eyes he saw an answer to his own disgust and doubts directed at the Minister.

Xxxx

Hermione observed the niceties, smiling, chatting politely with the Minister's entourage, and she listened to the usual Ministry drivel they spouted. _Like she cared about their little power plays. All she cared for, was the safety of the public. And her friends – and herself – and Severus, she had to admit, grudgingly._ She waited patiently for an opportunity to question the Minister himself. Walking up to him as he was left the Great Hall, moving to the staff room, she shamelessly exploited her status as a war hero.

"Minister," she said imperiously, "I'm Hermione Granger. I suppose you know my name."

Croaker gave her a tired, but heartfelt smile, and he said: "Why, of course, Miss Granger!"

She knew from the gossip in the Ministry that he was always perfunctorily correct and formal. His dress robes were a swirling grey, neatly tailored and pressed, and his black shoes were shining like obsidian glass.

She smiled back, and lowered her voice: "Minister, I've wondered these past months. Why haven't you informed the public of the Azkaban breakout?"

The Minister shot a long look at Harry, trailing behind them, and he flicked a Silencing Charm around them, before saying: "Your status as a very special war hero, Miss Granger, urges me to tell you this under full confidentiality. The Auror Office, by Mr. Shacklebolt himself, advised me to keep it under wraps, to not scare the public even further."

Hermione furrowed her brow slightly, and said slowly: "Is that also why you didn't notify anyone of the capture, which I sincerely hoped you made, of the ten Death Eaters that attacked Professor Snape and me in Hogsmeade at Christmas?"

Croaker stopped short in the corridor, and his faced paled visibly. "I've never heard about any such incident!" he said, looking extremely upset.

Hermione told him of what had happened, and the Minister broke into her explanation, saying with a terrible intensity: "Miss Granger, would you be willing to swear to me that you saw this Patronus directed to Mr. Shacklebolt?"

"Yes," she said, pulling out her wand, and said: "I solemnly swear that I saw Professor Snape alert Kingsley Shacklebolt by Patronus to the attack we experienced." For good measure, she added: "And that Professor Snape Stunned the attackers right before our escape."

They resumed walking, and Hermione noticed the Aurors staring at her and the Minister.

"I promise to look into it," Croaker said, looking even more worried and careworn than before.

Xxxx

Everyone was occupied with the Minister, following his entourage to the Great Hall, and Minerva took the opportunity to hold Severus back in her office.

"Sit," she commanded, and the black-haired wizard frowned at her tone – but he did sit down, reluctantly, in a chair in front of her desk.

Satisfied, she continued: "How on earth, Severus, did you manage to bollocks this situation with Hermione so completely?"

He stiffened, drew himself up to his full height, and tried to look down at her from his nose. But she would have none of it.

"Why is Miss Granger sure that you are married and have a child?", she soldiered on.

The expression on Severus face was priceless, and she savoured it for later laughs. That sallow face, elongated in utter astonishment, black eyes with a bewildered expression… _Oh yes, she'd remember it for sure. Never had Severus Snape looked this flabbergasted. She almost sniggered._ Then he took a breath, and his eyes came to light once more.

"What?" he spluttered, shaking his head. "She doesn't believe that, she's worried about what I did as a spy!"

"No," Minerva said calmly, eyes dancing, barely suppressing her mirth, before she amended: "That too, I suppose, but the lass seems quite determined to believe that you have a family outside Hogwarts. And she doesn't want to be a home wrecker."

Inwardly, she hooted with laughter, as for the first time in the almost thirty years of their acquaintance, Severus Snape seemed to be at a total loss of words. He gaped at her for a long time, before he stared out in the distance, mouth working without any words emerging.

He shook his head once more, and found his voice, tone almost pleadingly: "Minerva, surely _you_ must know what this is, you've read the Hogwarts ledger as well as I have."

"Yes," she replied calmly, "but what I don't understand, is why you invest so much into _this_ child. There must be, I _know_ there are people closer in line to take up such a duty than you. No matter what, you need to tell Hermione the truth."

Frowning, he looked away, hesitating a little before answering. "It's difficult for all of us, who were associated with the wrong side _._ To protect this child might signal an attachment to things that are best forgotten. I, however ludicrous it seems, am in the best position to do this, but this is dangerous, very dangerous indeed. And," his gaze deepened, as he looked at Minerva with a defiant, proud but strangely hurt look, "I must protect them both at all costs. I might want Hermione, but the truth may put her in danger. As for the child, there is no question about my involvement. I am _her_ Godfather."


	13. Truth

_**A/N:** We're closing in on some answers, at least, in this chapter. Please tell me what you think!_

* * *

"Stupid man," Minerva scoffed, and he stiffened at the slur. "You know Hermione is both loyal and capable, and she can protect your secret. I'm quite sure she'd even help you!"

"She might," he conceded, "but…"

Minerva interrupted him, like the freight train of a witch she was: "Shut up, Severus. Go tell her, you'll be sorry if you don't. Moreover, _she's_ sorry too. Why should the two of you suffer for a silly misunderstanding like this? You both deserve something better."

He sighed. "I don't like to put her in more danger than she already is," he said slowly. " _They_ are after her, you know. This will be another reason for them to hunt her down."

"She's been hunted before," Minerva said callously.

"Not like this," he said. Lifting his eyes to meet Minerva's, he continued: "We were attacked in Hogsmeade during Christmas, both of us. We knocked out the Death Eaters, and I notified Kingsley by Patronus. The Auror Office never reacted to the information."

Minerva gasped. "They didn't? Why?"

"I don't know," he said slowly, "because they would never tell _me_ anything. I was wondering if you had heard something."

"No," she said decisively, mouth pinched into a firm line. "I must say, I'm astounded by this. They never came back to you?"

"Not a word, and then I saw the _Prophet_ reporting a sighting of Avery's girl. She was one of our attackers. That's how I know they didn't respond to my Patronus." He paused for a moment, debating if he should say more, but Minerva's very real shock convinced him: _She didn't know anything more than him._ "I believe they don't trust me, Minerva. That's another reason for Hermione not to be involved with me."

The old witch smiled crookedly. "For the first time, you'll get a Slytherin advice from a Gryffindor, Severus. Your association with her could do wonders to your reputation for those who doubt you. Have you thought about that?"

"Of course," he said, slightly offended, "I _am_ a Slytherin."

"A very unselfish one," she countered, and he grimaced sourly.

"Still, telling her about my charge does _not_ help with the other thing."

"What you did as a spy," Minerva said shrewdly. "Does she need to know?"

"She doesn't know any details, but when we were attacked, one of the Death Eaters shouted something to her that bothered her greatly."

Minerva shrugged. "The girl knows about your role. She might be more forgiving than you think, just talk to her, Severus."

His eyes didn't meet Minerva's as he said softly: "Some things are harder to forget than others."

Xxxx

Hermione realized, Minerva was right. She shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, that was sloppy science. And that was simply not something Hermione Granger did. Careful research, verifying facts, that was how she operated. Still, she felt queasy by the thought of asking Severus Snape straight out if he was an adulterer. She feared both _knowing_ that he was, as well as his immediate, furious reaction – no matter if it was true or not.

As she approached the door to his office, the dungeon freezing cold around her, her steps slowed, and her stomach sank. Sweat pooled in her armpits, and her heart thudded in her chest. She stopped outside, lifting her hand slowly to knock, but not quite making herself do it. _Chicken!_ she told herself sternly.

Quick steps drummed down the hallway, and she whirled around, seeing him coming towards the door, robe billowing as always behind him. She swallowed, as he slowed down, and he arched an eyebrow as he questioned with surprise in his voice: "Were you looking for me, Granger?"

"Yes," she said with determination, bringing out her courage once more. "And it's Hermione, you know."

At that, he smiled slightly, looking surprised, and said: "Very well. Do come in, Hermione." Somehow, she picked up nervousness from him. It heartened her a little, knowing that he too felt apprehension for the conversation that was about to come.

Entering, he ushered her through his office into his private quarters. She shivered by the featherlight touch of his hand on her back. His chambers were comfortably warm, but dark, and lights flared up when he entered. She speculated idly if he had lit the room with wandless and wordless magic, or if the lights in his room was just keyed to his presence.

"Tea? Or coffee?" he asked, as she sat down on his uncomfortable leather sofa, feeling the roaring heat of his fireplace warming her front. She hugged her knees, and said quietly: "Tea, please."

He Summoned a tea set, and with a flick of his finger, a kettle in the small kitchenette whistled. "I only keep Earl Gray on stock here," he said, "and I hope that'll do? If not, I'll ask the kitchens, they have a wide selection, as you, of course know…"

She really looked at him, then, and _oh gods_ , uneasiness was rolling off him in waves. He was positively babbling. _Severus Snape was nervous, there was no doubt about that._

Smiling a little at the incongruous idioms: _Snape_ and _nervousness_ , she said: "It'll be fine. I take my tea black, there's no need for milk or sugars."

"Yes, I know," he said, preoccupied, as he spooned loose-weight tea leaves into the pot, followed by water from the kettle. They were both silent, waiting for the British solution for everything bad, the tea pot steeping for a few minutes. Finally, Snape poured the tea, and Hermione gave off a deep sigh, taking a large sip with closed eyes. It was hot, strong and perfectly dosed. She had expected nothing less, though.

"I need to ask you something", she began, as he simultaneously said: "I need to tell you something."

They both stopped, looking at each other, and he smiled ruefully, saying: "Minerva's doing. She'd be laughing so hard right now if she knew."

"I suppose so," Hermione replied. "She told you about our conversation?"

"She told me what you believe, and she urged me to talk to you."

"Hmm," Hermione said, meeting his eyes, "she told me that I was wrong."

"You are," he said, holding her gaze with intensity. "I don't have a wife or a child of my own."

"But there _is_ a child," she said, listening to what he left unspoken.

"Yes." The silence was heavy, and Hermione waited for him to continue.

He exhaled, and looked at her again, black eyes almost pleading. "I need you to swear on your wand to be able to tell you more."

"Oh." Her first thought was: _Didn't he trust her? What could be so dangerous about this?_ But then she pulled herself together. _This was Snape, not some flimsy wizard. If he needed a Wand Oath, it was probably important._ So she lifted her wand, saying: "I solemnly swear on my wand and magic that I will keep my silence on what I'm about to hear, until Severus Snape see fit to release me from the promise."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, and said gently: "Thank you. I am Godfather to a little girl. She's orphaned, and her heritage makes her the ultimate weapon for some, and a cause for scrutiny and vilification from others."

Blanching, she slowly opened her mouth to ask, dreading the answer – _it couldn't be, could it?_

But he interrupted her: "Yes. It's Voldemort's daughter." Softly, he continued: "She's just a little kid. If people knew, she'd be monitored, tested and observed like an interesting specimen her whole life. I believe she should have a chance to grow up without that hanging over her head. I don't think that the sins of the father – or the mother too, in this case – should be revisited on the child."

She really didn't know what to say, but croaked out: "Does she know?"

"Not yet. She's, after all, merely two years old. But she's already exhibiting very strong unintentional magic. In all probability, she'll be a very powerful witch. Her name is Delphini."

 _Delphini, an odd name,_ Hermione rather thought, but then, she had absolutely no expectations as to what kind of names Voldemort would pick out for a _baby_ , of all things. "What's she like?"

"She's quiet, intelligent, quick to anger, but also a charming, lovable kid who knows how to get what she wants. But maybe that's what I'm looking for, because that's what I'd expect from the Dark Lord's daughter," he said a little helplessly.

 _Gods. Voldemort had a child._ Shuddering, she remembered that skeletal, pale, red-eyed _thing_. _Who would bed such a wizard? Earlier, he had told her that Voldemort had been sexually active, but this – the blatant, obvious proof of that, made her feel a little sick._

Hoping to the gods that the mother wasn't some poor, forced thing, she asked: "And who's the mother?"

Snape leaned back in his wing chair, steepling his hands across his stomach. His eyes never left hers as he said softly: "Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione fought down bile – _that crazed, sadistic bitch – a mother?_ Remembering the torture she went through in Bellatrix hands, she shuddered visibly, saying curtly: "Poor child."

"Indeed," he said, voice gravelly. "Death Eaters are hunting her for obvious reasons. Currently, she's placed with a witch I trust, but it might not be safe enough, as things are picking up. I visit as often as I can. I made a promise, I've committed myself. I will keep her safe."

"What will you do?"

He shrugged. "I really don't know. I might have to bring her to Hogwarts, but you know what kind of questions _that_ will bring. If I do, I'll have to claim her as my own, or else she'll be taken in custody by the Ministry."

Brow furrowing, she asked: "But doesn't the Ministry know, already?"

"They don't. The only ones with access to all magical births in Britain, is the Hogwarts' Headmaster. Minerva knows. And the Death Eaters know, of course."

She sipped at her tea again, thinking: _If I want to pursue a relationship with him, I get a step-daughter, born from Voldemort and Bellatrix. That's essentially what he's asking. Her parents might be the worst criminals Britain has seen, but still, like he said, she's a child, and not responsible for what her father and mother did. An innocent child – who deserves a chance, like he said. Remember: You check all facts and verify for yourself – that's how you make good decisions. You need to see for yourself._

Pulling herself together from the shock, the disgust and dread, she asked him calmly: "When can I meet her?"

Xxxx

He stared at her, swallowing convulsively, make the scars left from Nagini's attack strain and hurt. His mind spun: _She wants to meet Delphini. Does that mean she wants me too? Will she overlook my actions as a Death Eater spy?_ Remembering Minerva's advice, he ventured carefully: "That can be arranged, if you want to."

Hermione nodded, and he felt a tiny flare of relief. Pausing a little, he decided to venture into what had bothered him these last weeks. "I got a strong impression that you were worried about my Death Eater activities. I don't know what to say, but maybe we should talk about it." _He felt stupid, saying something like that. Severus never talked about his emotions, but then again, he never had anyone to share his emotions with either._

Hermione looked a little apprehensive, and said slowly: "I don't know what to ask either. I'm quite sure I don't want to know any details. Except for…" she hesitated.

He prodded, as the silence stretched: "Except for what?"

"I still don't see how you could make something like that work for you, but I would like to know if it was voluntarily. I would like to know why you joined Voldemort in the first place, and if this was the sort of thing you were looking forward too."

 _Ah, clever girl,_ he thought, silently relieved. He was pleased that she hadn't asked about the number of his victims or details – any details at all, but this was a more fundamental question – one that was so much more important. _She wanted to assess his character._

Out loud, he said: "Everyone knows why I joined in, thanks to Potter spreading my memories all over the place. Bitterness, anger, lost love – you know. But I can reassure you, I wasn't looking for torture and killing. And, I would never have raped anyone by my own volition. I was ordered to do a lot of things I personally found distasteful."

"Will you show me why you joined _him_?" she asked.

He looked away. _Think, Severus, think. To show her this, might secure her affection, even though these are painful, dangerous and embarrassing memories. The gain is potentially a lifetime with her._ _If you don't, you will lose her anyway. Really, this was an easy, but humiliating gamble._

He nodded, and rose to get his pensieve.


	14. Breaking the Law

_**A/N:** Thanks for reviewing, following and favouriting! Please tell me what you think. _

_Especially thanks to those whom I can't give a personal reply, guests and others. For NeoQBirdie: Yes, we'll get there. Not in this chapter, though, but we're closing in._

 _This chapter is heavily inspired by the Judas Priest song "Breaking the Law". I considered making into a oneshot, but decided to work it into this story instead. Lyrics are the property of Judas Priest, I'm just borrowing for fun. If you'd like a soundtrack to this chapter, go ahead to listen to it. In the middle, take note of the roaring motorbike. ;-) Lyrics are marked by * * in **bold**._

 _Personally, I'm a bit disturbed by parts of this chapter. It isn't graphic, but it's decidedly … distasteful. Warning for mentions of a very abusive relationship._

* * *

Pausing over his pensieve, he told her: "It's impossible to know, but I believe I was chosen to as Godfather since… Well, I might have been one of the very few who still could see him as that brilliant, charming man who showed unwavering support and protection to those he considered his close followers. Hermione, he was once my _friend,_ strange as it may sound, though I know he didn't see it that way. I can't deny it, not with what you're about to see. I hope you will ... I don't expect you to _understand_ , exactly, but at least I hope you'll see why I felt that way, in the beginning."

Her eyes were big, dark, golden-tinged orbs, and she nodded slowly. He knew she had to see for herself to believe him. Sighing, he stretched out his hand, and together, they plunged into his memories.

Xxxx

 _* **There I was completely wasting, out of work and down**_

 ** _all inside it's so frustrating as I drift from town to town_**

 ** _feel as though nobody cares if I live or die_**

 ** _so I might as well begin to put some action in my life_** _*_

The street was dusty, and heat shimmered across the tarmac. The houses on each side were small, but nice-looking and well-kept. Beside her, in the memory, _her_ Severus stood, crossing his arms, but looking uncomfortable. His voice a deep rumble in his chest, he said to her: "This is from the summer in 1976. This memory is directly related to what happened in later years." Towards them, in the middle of the road, a tall, thin teenage boy came slouching. She shot a quick look at Snape for confirmation, and he quirked his lips slightly, nodding.

 _Oh. So this was a sixteen year old Snape, then._ She peered at the boy with curiosity, and smiled at the similarities with the tall, powerful man beside her – though, she smiled even more at the differences.

The young Severus was much slighter of build, didn't hold himself so rigid and straight, and he just oozed teenage insecurities and grumpiness. The large, hooked nose was in place, somehow looking even bigger in the thinner face, and the hair was still long and lanky. But the most notable difference made her giggle. She turned to Snape, and said with disbelief: "You had a _tan?"_

He looked exasperated down at her, and said heavily: "Yes. You'll see why in a short while."

The boy slinked off to the side of one street to look over a fence. Immediately, they heard a yell from the other side, the voice belonging to a young girl. "Sweet Mary, Lily, he's here again, peeping at us! You said he was going to stay away!"

The Severus beside her cringed a little, and the boy did so too, as a yellow flash from a hex was lobbed over the fence at the boy. The young Snape instantly conjured a shield, and the hex clashed into it, making sparks fall. The boy turned away, walking quickly down the street.

"Was that Harry's aunt?" Hermione whispered.

"Yes," he said, "that was the charming Petunia, and the hex, of course, came from…" he trailed off.

She nodded, and whispered: "I understand."

Sharply, he said to her, in his most professorial tone: "You don't need to whisper. They can't hear you, no matter what we do."

"Yes, sir," she said loudly, giving him a small smile, and squeezed his hand. _She had no trouble understanding that this was difficult for him, so she supposed she should bear over with his short temper – for this occasion._

As they followed the young boy down the street, the houses gradually changed. The lawns were less well-tended, and the houses had traces of disrepairs. Then the boy turned sharply to the right, into a narrow street where the houses were even more rundown, and the yards behind the walls were shabby.

"Spinner's End," the man beside her said bitterly, "my home."

She said nothing, just grasped his hand again to squeeze it. This time, she didn't let go.

In the middle of the street, a couple of young, Muggle men stood. Hermione supposed she'd call them thugs by the look of them, and as they noticed the young Snape, they sauntered towards him, with a menacing air to them.

"Hey Snape, your Da' owes us. What you're going to do about that?" A big, burly youngster in a leather jacket called out, and the rest of them grinned stupidly at their leader. The skinny teenage boy stopped, eyeing them carefully.

"Last time, your Da' let us use your Mum as we liked. Did you know she was a screamer?"

Hermione gasped, and the young boy in front of them tensed up. "I don't believe you," he said curtly.

"You'd better," the youngster said grinning wickedly, swaggering towards them. Young Snape moved around them, like he was positioning himself for a fight, but edging closer to one of the houses.

The Snape from _her_ time leaned down, and said calmly: "Getting close to the edge of the property, so that I wouldn't get in trouble with the Underage Magic Restrictions."

"Running away, are you?" another one in the gang jeered.

"In your dreams," Snape-the-boy said, a rather nasty look in his black eyes. Wandlessly, he pulled the legs out underneath the boys, landing them on their arses in the street. Then he proceeded to hex them. Hermione had no idea which spell he actually used, but the effect seemed to be much the same as a Muggle thrashing would have been. After a few minutes, the boy whipped his wand at them, casually Obliviated the gang, before entering the closest property by the gate.

Hermione and the older Snape moved after, and the boy slammed the front door of a very derelict house. She couldn't help looking at the man beside her: _Did he really grow up in such poor conditions?_ The grim line of his mouth told her the answer.

A large man barreled out of the kitchen, a bottle of brandy in his hand. _He looked an awful lot like Severus,_ she thought, _but the ruddy face and the heaviness of his frame were far from what she could see of the elder Snape right now._

"Boy, did you get it?" the man demanded, brandishing his bottle.

The young Snape rolled his eyes. "Which one, do you mean?"

"You fuckwit, any of them! Don't tell me, they saw you're useless right away. Damn nancy boy you are, no one will ever need you. There'll be no help in bringing in money from you, all you do is spend, spend, spend on that fucking school of yours."

She could see an expression of hurt pass over the teenager's face, but he straightened himself, looking angry too. "You're right, I didn't get any of them. Seems like they only need people that are too stupid to see when the bottle is empty. Like _you_. Why don't you get a job, Da'?"

Hermione felt like everything happened in slow motion, and she could only stare in horror, as the big, burly man dropped his bottle and bellowed, advancing on the boy with swinging fists. Young Snape took a step back, drawing his wand and with a snarl he Stupefied his father. The limp body thudded heavily to the floor, and a shriek was heard from the kitchen door.

Hermione looked up, seeing a thin, pale woman leaning on the door frame, one hand pressed to her mouth.

"Severus!" the woman wailed. "You shouldn't do such things to your Da'!"

The boy looked lost for a moment, staring at her. He pulled himself together, and said with a sneer: "Ma, we don't have to put up with this. He's a fucking _Muggle_ , he shouldn't be able to hurt us. Use your magic, for Merlin's sake! Teach him a lesson, like I do!"

"No," she said, tears in her eye, almost whimpering. "I can't do that, he's too strong. And you mustn't either. Every time you use your magic in front of him, he takes it out on me. When you leave for Hogwarts, there'll only be us. And then, he…" the woman brought herself up short, and clamped her lips together.

"Does he hurt you more when I'm not there?" the boy said, fury in his voice.

"Yes," the woman whispered. "Please don't make him angry, Severus, please don't."

Xxxx

With a rush to her ears, they were back into Severus' office, she stared at him, horrified. "You grew up with _that?_ ", she whispered, putting a hand on his arm.

"Yes," he said curtly, hiding his face from her. "This was my dear, ol' Da'." Clearing his throat roughly, he continued: "I wanted to show you what it was like, so that you'll understand what happened later. And, Hermione, you must brace yourself."

"Ok," she said, swallowing. _If this was necessary for her understanding, then she was sure nothing good would follow._ He took her hand again, and they dove back into the pensieve.

Xxxx

 _* **So much for the golden future, I can't even start**_

 ** _I've had every promise broken, there's anger in my heart_**

 ** _you don't know what it's like, you don't have a clue_**

 ** _if you did you'd find yourselves doing the same thing too_** _*_

It was summer again, but the young man sitting in front of her, drinking tea in the kitchen, was obviously older. For once, he was taller, and he had filled out a little more. Looking curiously to the adult Severus beside her, he said: "This is the next summer. Like I said, brace yourself."

Tobias Snape shuffled into the kitchen, looking bleary-eyed. A strong smell of last night's drinks and stale sweat permeated from his body and crumpled clothes. The man scowled at his son, and went to the refrigerator, rummaging around. With a yell, he slammed the door shut, and turned to face Severus.

"It's fucking empty!"

Young Severus said calmly: "There's food."

"Damn it, boy! Didn't I tell you to go buy more beer?"

"You did. I didn't buy any."

The big man lurched toward the table, looming over the sitting, young man, bellowing: "The only thing your whore of a mother was good for, was to keep the fridge filled with beer! Apart from that, she was useless like you!"

"Stop insulting my mother," the young Snape said threateningly. "I'm not afraid of you anymore."

"You would be, if you couldn't wave that stick around!" the man roared, face reddening with anger. "Your slut mother at least knew enough to lay still with her legs spread for anyone who would pay!" The man's eyes glinted viciously.

"Shut up!" young Severus bellowed himself, pointing a finger at his father. Hermione almost jumped, suddenly seeing the angry Potion's teacher from her childhood in the young man.

"You shut up! Where do you think we got money after I lost me job, eh? Your mother serviced anyone who wanted to have her, ugly, scrawny thing she was."

"You don't talk about my mother like that!" Severus yelled, and she felt the grown, real Severus beside her tense.

"I get to talk about her anyway I like! She finally died, and I got rid of her!" The big man looked almost demented now, a crazed look in his eyes, and he lowered his voice: "She died here in the kitchen, you know. I roughed her up, because the last customer didn't pay her, said it wasn't good enough to pay for, lazing on the job, that stupid bitch. Then she fell, smashing her head into the stove. Took forever to clean off the blood."

The young man paled, and he whispered dangerously: "You killed my mother."

The big man stopped short, paling slightly, like he suddenly understood he had gone too far. He backed off a few steps, raising his hands as if to shield himself, and his mouth opened to say, clumsily: "Hey, now, I didn't mean it like tha'…"

But the young man's voice rose, eyes glinting dangerously, and he repeated in a roar: "You KILLED my mother!" His wand was suddenly in his hands, and he yelled: " _Avada Kedavra_!" The adult Severus pulled her out of the memory, as green light filled the kitchen.

Xxxx

Hermione stumbled out, clutching Severus' coat. She only stared at him wide-eyed, and he looked away, mouth a thin line. Softly, he said: "This was my first kill."

She nodded, still speechless. Seeing her stricken look, he said: "Maybe this was wrong, I shouldn't have showed you this. I understand if you want to leave now."

"No", she croaked out. "No…" She pulled him into a fierce hug, and hid her face into his chest, wanting to cry for the awful childhood he had had and for the horrors poor Eileen Prince had been put through. His arms came up around her, clutching her convulsively, and he rested his face on the top of her head. They stood in silence for a while, her tears soaking his frock coat, before she looked up at him, saying with determination: "What you did was perfectly understandable. I'm…I'm so sorry, no one should have a childhood like that."

"Indeed," he said, "but this is the real backdrop for why I joined the Dark Lord. It wasn't only because of Lily."

She nodded grimly, and squeezed his arm.

"Are you ready?" he said, and again they fell into the pensieve.

Xxxx

The young Severus was in the backyard of the house, staring down at a large, black beetle. A very dead beetle.

Hermione looked up at him, and he said impassively: "Yes, that's him. I Transfigured him, and left him to rot in the garden, claiming that he had just disappeared."

The sudden lurch of Apparition went through them – though faintly, like an echo, and they were standing in Diagon Alley. The young man strolled down the street in the direction of Flourish and Blotts, and they followed close behind.

"Hey, Snape!" a voice called out, and young Severus turned around.

Another teenager came up to him, smiling cordially. They exchanged pleasantries, and then the other man asked: "What are you doing here today?"

Adult Severus leaned down to her, whispering: "Damien Rosier, Evan Rosier's father. He was in my class."

She nodded, looking curiously at the two young Death Eaters-to-be.

"Nothing," Severus shrugged, "My father just died, so I thought I'd get away for a bit."

The other boy's eyes became round, and he gulped out a hasty: "Sorry to hear that, my condolences."

"Don't be," Severus shrugged, "he was a piece of shit."

"Oh." Rosier became quiet, fidgeting a little. Then he said: "Maybe you'll join us for dinner, then? My mother has invited some guests you might find interesting." His voice lowered to a whisper, and he continued, imbuing the words with meaning: "Lord Voldemort."

Severus whistled, looking surprised, his voice equally low as he responded: "Have your family decided to join?"

"Yes," Rosier said, "we have. It's our duty as Pure-bloods."

Severus nodded, and grimaced. "Do you think I'll be welcome? I'm not…" he stopped haltingly.

"I know. I don't think it matters to him, as long as one isn't Muggleborn. Come along."

The memory blurred, like it was fast-forwarded, and Hermione glanced at adult Severus, saying with astonishment: "I didn't know one could do that!"

"Now you know," he said mouth quirking. Then his eyes darkened, and he said softly: "And here's the first time I met the Dark Lord."

The dining room was large, and sumptuously decked out. To Hermione, it was clear that the Rosiers were very well-to-do. Chrystal chandeliers floated in the ceiling, lightening the room with a soft, warm light, and a white damask cloth covered the dinner table. Silver-laced goblets, heavy silver cutlery with monograms, and bone-white china covered the table. Giving it a closer look, Hermione could see that it was actually made of bones. _Gods, dragon bone china. It must have cost a fortune,_ she thought.

In the parlor, clearly visible between the open double doors, she could see Severus and Damien Rosier skulking close to the doorway. They each held a glass of champagne, and they were both stretching their necks to see what happened in the center of the room.

Hermione and Severus moved closer to the doors. Beautifully dressed people were gathered in a ring, the two teenaged boys standing on the outskirts. Bouts of laughter and snippets of conversations floated through the room, and suddenly the crowd parted, letting the man holding all the attention come into their view.

Her breath caught in her throat. _That had to be Voldemort, though she could barely believe it._

A very handsome wizard, impeccably dressed in black dress robes, stood tall in the middle of the room. He had dark eyes, and dark, wavy hair falling into his eyes. Yes, he was very pale, but that was about the only thing he had in common with the snake-faced _thing_ she had seen during the war. Hermione thought he looked like he was in his thirties, but realistically, she knew he had to be fifty at least. But what captured her attention, was the easy smile, the charming glint in his eyes, and the way that his magic rolled off him in a very tangible way, making her flesh tingle.

She darted a glance at Severus, and he was observing her, a look of wry amusement in his eyes.

"Don't worry," he said softly, "everyone reacted like this. This was the Dark Lords' party façade, and you would have been jaded indeed to not feel his charm. That's not to say he didn't use scare tactics, but to gain followers and money, this was what he did. And," Severus chuckled a little, "this was the way he gained women too."

Exhaling, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she's been holding, she nodded weakly. _Who the hell would be able to resist such a charm? She was not sure she'd be able to herself, and that with the full knowledge that this man was a vicious killer, a mad tyrant and an evildoer._

The man strode forward towards the two, teenaged boys.

"Young Rosier," he said, in a deep voice, with a smile that seemed genuinely happy. "I'm proud to count you and your family amongst my followers today. Later, I'll show you that curse we talked about last time we met. But who's your dark friend?" His gaze moved to Severus, eyes reflecting a keen interest and something Hermione only could describe as _joy._

Memory-Severus shifted nervously, and held out his hand in response to Voldemort's outstretched hand. He looked virtually star-struck as they shook hands, Rosier introducing them.

"I can sense that you'll grow into a very powerful wizard," Voldemort said, and nodded as Rosier mentioned the Prince family. "Ah, yes, the Princes. That's a good family with strong magic powers. How's your mother?"

"Errm, she died this spring, my Lord," Severus said, expression turning glum.

"My condolences," Voldemort said lightly, and then he inquired: "And your father, which family does he belong to?"

Severus reddened slightly, and opened his mouth, but Rosier interrupted glibly: "My Lord, Severus is a Half-blood, but please believe me, he's one of the best in our year and has always been so."

"I can believe that," Voldemort mumbled, and cocked his head at Severus. "You live with _Muggles_ for the moment?" he said, an expression of distaste on his face.

"Not anymore," Severus said, before adding: "Not after today."

"What happened today?" Voldemort asked, looking even more interested.

"My father died this morning, my Lord" Severus said curtly. He looked up to meet Voldemort's eyes, and then he stiffened, standing stock still as if in shock.

The adult Severus by her side muttered to her: "He's using Legilimency on me. At first, I think he was curious about how I felt about my Muggle family, but then he, of course, found the memory you saw earlier. Watch him, now."

Voldemort's eyes widened, and then he laughed, looking curiously amused and fascinated. He put his arm around Severus' shoulder, and said: "You, my friend, will be quite the wizard. I will follow your progress through school, and I'll put in a word for you when you graduate. Potions mastery, is it?"

Severus looked awestruck, and nodded.

The tall wizard moved on, squeezing the teenagers arm, and said: "Come and see me later this summer. You and I will have much to discuss."

Xxxx

The retreat from the memory felt like a crash landing, her feet thudding down at the stone floor in Severus' chambers. She staggered, holding on the table for support, her breathing a little too fast.

Severus cocked an eyebrow to her, and said: "I hope I don't have to be jealous of the late Dark Lord?"

"What, no!" she said, flustered. "But he was nothing like what I expected."

"What did you expect?" he said, curiously.

"I don't know, something more sinister, something more … fake. He seemed authentic, like he really was a nice man," she said slowly.

Severus barked a laugh, and said shortly: "Trust me, he wasn't. But he was not all bad."

She shrugged, and said: "At least, I can understand why you and others were charmed into following him. It always seemed so unlikely to me, that anyone would chose to follow a cruel, snake-faced madman."

"Indeed," Severus said. He added: "Though he lost his looks, he still retained that ability to charm. He just didn't use it so often after his resurrection. His cruelty became more… prominent, so to speak. But this memory … I met him quite often during that summer, and he taught me dark magic, discussed in-depth potions theories with me, and he promised to pay for my mastery. He even taught me Legilimency and Occlumency, telling me that I had a natural aptitude for it. All he did was, of course, to play me, gaining a loyal follower out my bitterness, anger, sense of loss and the very _entitlement_ I felt as a non-illegible heir to the Prince legacy, just by showing me interest, caring for my finances and my education." Bitterly, he added: "I was so happy I met him. He collected people, and I was so ready to be harvested."

Hermione swallowed. _No wonder, with that background and a heartache over Lily to boot. It would have been odd indeed, if Severus had withstood all that powerful attention._ She stroked his arm, leaning her head into him.

He looked down at her, eyes dark and inscrutable, and said: "Not scared yet?"

She shook her head, and the infinitesimal shift in his stance and a lessening of his tension told her that he was relieved. But then he tensed up, and he said slowly: "The last one two memories I planned to show you, are more directly related to your question. Are you sure you want to see this?"

To tell the truth, she wasn't sure at all, but she couldn't chicken out now. _He_ had lived it, _she_ should be able to just watch it _._ "Yes," she said, pulling her courage around her like a cloak.

They fell down into the memories again.

Xxxx

 _* **You don't know what it's like**_

 ** _Breaking the Law, Breaking the Law, Breaking the Law_** _*_

Hermione and Severus were standing on a darkening street in Diagon Alley, late at night. It was still summer, and witches and wizards dressed in summer robes passed them, chattering and laughing.

Suddenly, pops of Apparition cracked around them, and several cloaked and masked Death Eaters stormed down the street, wands blazing, cursing everything that moved, breaking shop windows and setting fire to houses.

"My first raid," he said, his face curiously blank and his voice impassive. "The objective was only to scare, not to maim or kill."

She shivered, and he put his arm around her, as if he wanted to shelter her from the scene unfolding in front of them. Wizards and witches ran screaming around, dodging curses and fires, and there – in the middle of the street, Hermione spotted someone who looked a lot like Harry. _Merlin, it had to be James Potter._ And beside him, a slim girl with red hair – _Lily_ , Hermione gathered, moved lithely as she danced between the curses, holding up a strong Protego over the two of them. One of the Death Eaters broke off, sending curse after hex after jinx towards James Potter, and Hermione didn't need any confirmation from Severus to understand who exactly that Death Eater was.

Both James and Lily were on the defensive, and the young Death Eater Severus advanced on them, striding quickly towards them with a seemingly unending arsenal of curses, one whizzing by Potter's head, making the hair on half of his head wither and die in an instant, another ricocheting against the _Protego_ , crashing into a shop window, splintering the window and maiming several people hiding inside. A third opened up a chasm in front of the pair, fires licking up from underneath the great rent in the street, and they scrambled back from the edge, their back against abyss, facing Severus, who steadily advanced towards them.

An almighty roar and a earsplitting crash made everyone duck for cover, but James and Lily sprinted forward, eyes lighting up, and threw themselves on the giant motorbike that had landed in the middle of the street. "Sirius!" Lily shrieked with relief, and the bike took off with the rider and the young pair, zooming in a zigzag up to the heavens, with Lily's red hair streaming after the bike, and the sound of Sirius' familiar, slightly manic laughter trailing upwards.

Young Severus stood still in the dark and suddenly empty street, shooting a strong, jet-coloured beam after the bike, the beam striking the back light, turning it into a murky dust. A shouted curse came from the bike, but it winged on towards the skies. With a loud _POP_!, Severus Apparated away, and Hermione and Severus were back in present-day Hogwarts.

Xxxx

Severus sighed deeply, and glanced down at Hermione, still ensconced in his arms. _What was she thinking? Showing her all this – he certainly hoped it wouldn't lead to disaster – again._

Scratching his scar on the neck, he swallowed uncomfortably. She was quiet, and he ventured to say something, opting for the honest truth: "You don't know what it was like. Here I was, trying to prove myself to the Dark Lord, and there _she_ was, on _his_ arm. Jealousy just – made me shut down, almost. I could have hurt them badly. And I wasn't aiming for hurting Potter, I was in for the kill."

She burrowed her face into his chest again, and he said slowly: "I told you. I did bad things."

But when she lifted her face at him, her eyes were big and teary again, and she whispered: "Do you love her still?"

He stilled. "No," he said, lifting his hands to thumb her cheek, brushing the tears away. "That ended at the same time as the war ended." He smiled at her in wonder. _Severus couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he showed her atrocities and nightmares from his own, personal hell, and all she wanted to ask was if he still loved another woman._

At his words, Hermione's eyes lit up, and she stood up on her toes, and gave him a quick peck on his chin – the highest point on him she could possibly reach. But then his eyes darkened. It was time for that last memory.

Xxxx

Hermione felt Severus clutch her hand, as the memory showed a large room, full of kneeling people, clad in cloaks and silvery masks.

"I've just been sworn in as a Death Eater, it's the end of August in the same year. I'm about to start my seventh year at Hogwarts."

Her breath hitched, and she said: "Oh, Severus, you were so young."

He snorted. "The Dark Lord didn't care about that. I was seventeen, and he was aiming to harness my power for his use."

"Rise, Severus," the tall, dark wizard said, and the young man in front of him tottered to his feet.

The adult Severus winced a little, and said: "That Dark Mark, it _hurt._ "

"Young Severus Snape has joined our ranks, and I envision a bright future for him as one of my Death Eaters," Voldemort said, and the people in the room cheered. "And now, let's revel!" the man shouted, and the cheers became even louder. House-elves popped into the room with trays of drinks and food, and Voldemort raised his hand, bringing his pale yew wand down with a swish, revealing a huddled, tied up group of people at the back of the room. Some of the men jeered, and terrified, female shrieks emanated from the group as Death Eaters stalked closer.

Hermione froze, but realized that those poor women had been abused, or dead, for a long time, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Voldemort beckoned Severus closer, and said with a fatherly smile: "No Muggles for you tonight, Severus. Tonight, you'll feast on the best Pure-blood the country can give you."

Hermione cringed, as she saw the eager look on the young man's eyes, and the muscles in Severus' arm tightened underneath her hand.

"Bella," Voldemort said, with a wicked glint in his eyes, "come closer, my darling."

A young, beautiful Bellatrix Black sashayed up to them, eyes glancing coldly, dismissively at Severus, and she curtsied: "Yes, my Lord?"

"You'll service Severus tonight. At the best of your … considerable … ability, Bella," Voldemort said with a calculating, amused smile.

"My Lord," Bellatrix pouted, "I had hoped to hone my Cruciatus tonight, not to entertain _schoolboys."_ Her voice was full of derision and scorn, and young Severus lost his eager, puppy-dog expression, becoming withdrawn, looking a little lost and angry.

"Please, my Lord?" Bella wheedled, eyes smoldering at Voldemort. "I humbly hoped to be one of _your_ chosen ones tonight, too."

Severus cleared his throat, and said stiffly: "My Lord, I can find someone else. I have no wish to force myself upon someone who clearly doesn't want to…"

Voldemort arched an eyebrow at them, and smiled cruelly. "Oh Severus, you will do just that on my orders, many, many times. I'm sure you'll be delighted to – after a while. Forcing a woman gives such a _special,_ exquisite pleasure. But tonight, you'll be welcomed into the unwilling arms of a beautiful, Pure-blooded witch." He turned to Bellatrix, and said callously: "You, my sweet Bella, you _are_ chosen tonight, handpicked by me as a treat for Severus. However," his eyes darkened with desire, "I'll watch. Give me a show, Bella, and please Severus – and your Lord."

He rose, and made a motion with his hand for them to follow. The two young Death Eaters walked slowly behind him, both staring at the other with distaste as they went through a door in the back.

Severus yanked on Hermione's arm, and they left the memory.

Xxxx

Stiffly, he said: "No need to watch the rest. But this give you the idea about what happened later, when I was ordered to… As you can see, I wasn't exactly thrilled by her being unwilling."

Hermione leaned into him again, thinking: _He was eager at first, but when she declined in the first place, he clearly lost interest. It means, he wasn't turned on by the idea of forcing a woman. But…"_ She couldn't help asking: "You followed through on his orders? With Bellatrix?"

"Yes," he said shortly, eyes looking over her shoulder, not meeting hers. "The Dark Lord watched the whole debacle, and afterwards, he had Bella too in front of me. He was quite indiscriminate about things like that. I can guarantee you, I've never done anything like that, except on his direct orders. After what happened to my mother, I find it … _very_ … distasteful. You asked me how I could go through with it, and well, there are spells and potions to take care of the ability to perform, and Occluding also helps. "

She sighed, and said: "I'm sorry you had to go through all this again, Severus, but I'm glad you showed me this. Now, I know more about why things happened. I don't believe you sought this out to … inflict pain, though it's still kind of hard to contemplate the whole thing." Falling silent, she tried to clear her mind. _He hadn't joined to rape or kill. He had joined because he was a desperate, lonely teenager, who had gone through hell in his home, who had lost the girl he loved to his enemy. Trapped by the deadly spin from Lord Voldemort, he had been driven to do unspeakable things, and later, on behalf of the Order too. Could she blame him for executing those commands, to ensure the Order had vital information on the Death Eaters?_

"And, how do you feel…?" he said after a while, the tension almost breaking his voice. She lifted her face to him again, with a trembling smile, and said: "I'm not afraid to be with you."

Without any conscious thought, his head swooped down, and he captured her mouth.


	15. The Charge

_**A/N** : Thanks for reading, favouriting and following! It means a lot. This chapter is much more happier, I promise._

* * *

She gasped into his mouth, as he prodded her open with his tongue, licking her lips, finding her own tongue to tangle and stroke. Grasping his arms, she tilted her head up, pressing her breasts into him. He snaked an arm around her, crushing her to him, and she could feel the very real evidence of his arousal pushed into her stomach. _Gods, he was big, she could clearly feel the outline of his cock through their clothing, like a hard, iron rod poking her._

Panting slightly into his mouth, she kissed him fiercely back, and his other hand came up, hands tangling in her hair, grabbing a fistful of curls, and he clutched her to him possessively, like he would never let her go. She whimpered a little, with an odd mixture of pleasure and pain, pain at having her hair pulled, and pleasure because … _There it was, she wanted him to be in power, in control over her body, and it was better than she had imagined, the need to let go of it all consuming her._ Wetness flooded her panties, and her belly caught fire.

She writhed against him, feeling that strong, hard, tall body rubbing against her as he devoured her mouth. Pulling her head aside, he attacked her neck, and she shivered, feeling tendrils of fiery shocks connecting her neck and belly. She tilted her pelvis to rub her sex against his thigh to relieve the throbbing tension, and he growled at her.

"So hot for me, you little minx, rubbing that delicious body of yours against me. Do you know what you do to me, witch?"

She only moaned, as he pulled her head back, licking and lightly biting her throat, before he said silkily again: "Do you know what you do to me? Answer me, witchling!"

"I…" she gasped, feeling as if her brain had lost the ability to find words, "I, I …oooh," she stuttered.

"Answer me!" he almost snarled against her throat, thrusting his hips against her stomach, that considerable bulge rubbing her.

"I make you so hot!"

"Yes, that's right, little witch," he purred at her, "You make me so horny, and I can't wait to see that luscious body I've been fantasising about for the last months."

Her breath hitched, and in that exact moment, there was a frantic knocking on his door.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands across his face, and gave her a look which told her he clearly wasn't done with her yet. She quickly composed her face, smoothing her hair as much as possible, and turned her back to the door as he opened, desperately trying to think about anything else than her throbbing arousal.

"Yes?!" he snapped at whoever was at the door. "This better be important!"

A tiny, piping voice that certainly had to belong to a first year, said: "Sorry, sir, but there's a Hufflepuff in our Common room."

Hermione almost giggled, as Severus snarled out a surprised: "What?"

"And it won't leave, sir!" the first year said plaintively.

He gave a great, exasperated sigh, saying: "It's _he_ or _she,_ not _it_ , you little dunderhead. Humans are _not_ referred to as _it._ How did the Hufflepuff get in?"

"It – aaah, he – followed my friend, and there are no prefects inside, only us firsties and a couple of second years."

"And how old is this Hufflepuff, Mr. Nott, and why are you unable to make him leave?"

Hermione blinked, realizing that this had to be a relative of Theodore Nott, maybe a cousin or even a younger brother. _Well, whoever his parents were, they hadn't done a very good job in ascertaining their son's respect for non-Slytherin humans_ , she rather thought with a grim smile.

"Seventh grade, sir. He's sitting in front of the fireplace, saying he's doing a bet with some Gryffindors, and he has to stay there until dinner time to win. Can you help us, sir? Can you remove the Hufflepuff?"

"Gods," Severus muttered, "students will be the death of me, yet."

She half-turned, trying to fight her amusement from showing, and he told her: "This might take a while, Hermione. I need to sort this out with Pomona, too."

"I know," she said, giving him a small grin. "We'll catch up later."

"I can guarantee that," he said, eyes burning at her, like he devoured her in a fiery caress.

Slipping out with Severus and the young Slytherin, she felt disappointed for the abrupt stop to what would surely have been the hottest lovemaking she'd ever experienced. But still, she was slightly relieved. _Was she ready for him yet, or was this relationship too new to handle her insecurities? To give herself to a man with his background, his experiences, was daunting, to say the least. And her sexual experiences weren't all that great to begin with. Actually, compared to the level of desire she had just experienced, she'd have to say her past experiences were rather horrid._

Xxxx

There had been no time to get back to her yesterday, to his great irritation and disappointment, but now, he was pulling her into his arms just outside the Hogwarts gates.

He Side-Along Apparated her to the woods just outside the house where he had hidden his charge. The trees were bare, but small, green buds were showing, and the wind smelt of the sea at high tide.

Hermione looked around, saying slowly: "Wherever in Britain this is, it isn't Scotland."

"You're quite right," he said, taking her hand to begin the short walk to the gates.

After Christmas, he had moved his charge and her guardian from the far, cold north to a large, comfortable cottage on the outskirts of a Muggle town in Cornwall. Formerly, the cottage had belonged to the late Augustus Rookwood. No Death Eaters should be stupid enough to go near it, knowing full well that Rookwood had been caught on his way here. Stopping outside the gates, he pricked his finger to let the wards recognize him.

"Blood wards," Hermione stated, her voice neutral, but her stiff posture suggested she found it distasteful.

"Yes," he said curtly. "It's by far stronger than any other wards, though several other types of wards are in place, too." Blood magic was considered a rather grey area, not quite dark, but not entirely good, either.

"How are you going to get me in, then?"

"Give me your hand," he said. Removing her glove, he pricked her finger until a small drop of blood welled up. Pressing the drop to his own finger, mingling the blood, he spoke the incantation, letting the wards wash over him, letting the magic ascertain that his blood wasn't forcibly taken form him: " _Introire."_

The gates opened, and he led her inside the garden. The sound of a small child singing led them to the back of the garden, where Delphini sat on a swing, chanting happily to herself:

" _Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,  
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.  
All the King's horses and all the King's men,  
Couldn't put Humpty together again._"

He looked fondly at her, smiling at the child, feeling his heart swell as he stood with his arm around his witch, watching the child he cared for.

Xxxx

The singing and the slow creaking of the swing unsettled her. _She couldn't help thinking the song was somewhat sinister. Yes, it was a perfectly normal nursery rhyme, but Voldemort's daughter singing about a great fall and the loyal men trying to put it all together again, seemed to resonate with the troubled times and the Death Eater resurgence._ Shaking herself, she decisively rid herself of those thoughts. _Really, Hermione,_ she scoffed at herself, _she's a toddler, who doesn't even know her own parents._

Forcing herself to really look at the girl, she saw a pretty child, with blonde, silvery hair. It surprised her, knowing that the child's parents both had dark hair. She looked angelic, with a dimple on her cheek and with large, dark eyes.

Severus had told her about the guardian, one Euphemia Rowle, wife to Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle. According to Severus, Mrs. Rowle had never supported the cause, and had been badly mistreated by her violent husband. Now, she was getting increasingly scared and depressed, due to Thorfinn's escape from Azkaban. Still, Severus was very certain Euphemia Rowle would never return to her husband voluntarily.

Suddenly the singing stopped, and the child yelled: "Sev'us!" Thrashing her little legs madly, as she couldn't get out of the secured swing by herself, she reached out her arms to him, and in a few strides of his long legs he was there, lifting her up on his arm, pressing his head into her little shoulder.

The tender hug made Hermione feel ashamed: _Severus obviously loved this child, and if she wanted to love him too, she'd have to care for the kid, no matter her family._

"Delphini," Severus said carefully, I want you to meet a special someone. This is Hermione."

The child cocked her head, peering curiously at her, before turning back to Severus. "Do you like her?"

"Yes," he admitted, "very much. And she wanted to meet you."

As the little girl turned back to gaze at her, Hermione felt almost trapped by the intensity of her dark eyes. Then the child smiled, slowly, and said with a nod: "He'miny." Her posture was regal, like she was a queen greeting a loyal subject.

A small chill went through Hermione, but she stepped forward, and reached out her hand to the girl. The small hand was surprisingly warm, and then the child grinned at her, eyes warm and mischievous, and she said: "Show magic, please?"

Surprised, Hermione grinned at her, and said "yes." Conjuring her trusty flock of yellow canaries, she made them soar around the girl in a circle, and Delpini clapped and giggled.

Xxxx

Severus watched Hermione play with Delphini, still with that warm, fuzzy feeling in his heart. The little girl showed Hermione her favorite trick, where she magically glued her building blocks together to form an impossibly high tower. _Sure, the child was strong, very strong. He had seen first years at Hogwarts with less control over their magic._

To his great relief, it seemed that his witch and his Goddaughter had hit it off.

"I like to play with you. Will you come back?" Delphini asked, looking at Hermione. She gave him a quick glance before answering, and he felt his heart swell when he heard her reply: "I'd love to, Delphini. It is fun playing with you."

The child jumped into Hermione's lap, small feet thudding down in force on Hermione's thighs, making his witch emit a strangled sound very much like an "oooomph!", but the hug made his heart melt.

Turning to Euphemia, he grew serious again, seeing her troubled expression. Her dark hair was greying at the temples, and she was much too thin, seeming frail and unhealthy.

"You're worried," he said softly.

"Yes," she said heavily. "You know, if _he_ finds us, all we've tried to do for Delphini will be for naught. Will you not consider to look after her yourself, Severus? Now you have a witch to help you out too, it'll be easier for you."

He slowly shook his head. "Not yet, Euphemia. This is all very new to us. But I'll look into it, making preparations. I will make this into a safe-house, entrusting Hermione as our Secret-keeper. Rest assured, I'll do anything in my power to protect you. You still wear that emergency Port-key, don't you?"

"Yes," she sighed, eyes dark with worry. Shuddering, she closed her eyes for a moment, before whispering: "I'm so afraid, Severus. If Thorfinn shows up, what if I panic and just leaves without Delphini? She'd be helpless. He'd _kill_ her on the spot, you know, never realizing who she really is. And I… I … I … can't bear thinking about it."

He took her hand, and said slowly: "I _promise_ you I'll find him first. He won't be allowed to hurt you, nor Delphini."

A quavering smile lit up Euphemia's face, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione watching them, her insatiable curiosity very much alive in those golden-brown eyes.

Xxxx

"I've been contemplating to take the guardianship myself," he told her, as they arrived back at Hogwarts, walking towards the castle. "Not only because of safety reasons, but also because no one knew her parents like I did anymore. I can see both their faults and personality traits, but I believe I still can have an open mind to her."

"I guessed as much," she said, giving him a smile. _He was nervous, worried about her reaction_ , she rather thought. "It's obvious that you care a great deal for her."

Shrewdly, she glanced at him, before saying offhandedly: "And you're one who's been offing them, aren't you?"

He looked at her with a startled expression, before shaking his head ruefully. "I should have known you'd put two and two together. What tipped you off?"

Hermione felt her lips tug into a smile. "I heard what you said to Euphemia, and I saw you returning to Hogwarts with that limp before Christmas. It was obvious you'd been in a fight. And the one who could take out those Death Eaters had to be someone _more_ powerful than them. There aren't that many, are there, except for you?"

He straightened a little, almost imperceptibly. _Maybe unconsciously,_ she thought, _like he felt proud by her calling him powerful. Strange, that someone seemingly so confident and self-sufficient as Severus Snape would enjoy praise. It was reassuring, in a way, to know that he was nothing but a man. Somehow, it made her feel more as his equal, smoothing out the well-known demarcation lines of age, experience, and their relation as former Professor and student, now mentor and apprentice._

Turning to her, eyes full of simmering, delicious black fire, he said silkily: "Will you join me tonight, to continue where we were interrupted yesterday?"

Her face fell, and she said: "Sorry, I've got rounds tonight. Maybe tomorrow night, after the Valentine feast?"

He looked disappointed, but then he said slowly: "Yes, concerning the feast…" His eyes were asking a question, and she felt her breath hitch, but her head nodded vigorously.

Xxxx

The teachers were gathered in the staff room, waiting for the Headmistress to announce who would take who to the Valentine's feast.

Severus stood beside Hermione, feeling the tension radiating from his little witch. _She was nervous, but so was he._

Minerva and Rolanda entered, grinning like the drunk dogs they were, and Minerva started to spout off the more or less successful matchings. When she came to his own name, he cleared his throat rather loudly, and interrupted her: "I'm off the market, Minerva."

The gasp from his fellow faculty members was very satisfying, and he could see a slight smile forming on Minerva's lips. He continued: "And so is Hermione." When he took her hand, a faint blush rose in her cheeks, but she met his eyes with a happy smile.

Looking around him, he saw to his great surprise that most looked happy on their behalf, and the warmth he felt from his colleagues felt oddly touching. Filius was beaming, shouting "Congrats!" on the top of his lungs, and Hagrid was close to sobbing with a big grin on his face, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief the size of a towel.

Septima's face was almost split by the wide grin she wore, _winking_ at them, Rolanda wolf-whistled, Pomona's eyes were twinkling with happiness, and even Sybil smiled tremulously at them. Batsheda mouthed a _wow!_ , and grinned at him, like she was impressed.

He noticed himself standing up straighter, pride coursing through him at seeing the happy face of his young, beautiful witch, and to his surprise, he felt that his colleagues approval actually _meant_ something to him. _Their relationship was accepted, even applauded._

Though, he noted that Aurora was looking worried, just as Marius Gewerryn. Those two frauds and idiots, Heron and Byror, were of course looking shocked and angry. _Severus didn't have it in him to feel sorry for them_ , _though._

"By gods," Minerva almost roared, "I've never been happier in losing a bet! Rolanda, I'll get you the fifty Galleons by tomorrow!"

People looked at her, astounded at the enormous amount of money for a bet, and then Rolanda laughed with glee. "See? I told you, they'd be shagging like rabbits before summer!"

There was a short, shocked silence, and then everyone laughed raucously. Severus felt himself grow warm, but he comforted himself that he could be nowhere near the crimson spreading over the face of his lovely, little witch.

Xxxx

Later, they were dancing in the Great Hall, and he murmured into her ear: "Tonight, you'll only dance with me. I'm not letting you go, I haven't had a chance to hold you enough, yet."

"Mmm," she crooned into his chest, resting her head by his heart. "I don't want to dance with anyone else either. Do you think we could make it an early night?"

"Sure," he said, smiling happily into her hair. For once, he didn't care if his students saw him smile. _Merlin, even the most dunderheaded student had to understand that he was the luckiest man on earth._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Did I leave you hanging? Next chapter is already written, and yes, I can guarantee you: It's going to happen in the next chapter. Finally!_


	16. Electricity

_**A/N:** Thanks for reading, following and favouriting! As for this chapter, I have to say finally... *winks* _

* * *

**The Daily Prophet, 14 February**

 _Another home-delivery for Rita Skeeter!_

 _Death Eater Corban Yaxley was found dead and naked on the bedroom floor of star-reporter Rita Skeeter's home. Aurors says the body was clutching an illegal Port-key, shaped like a sex toy, and he was obviously killed cleanly with the Killing Curse._

 _– I'm shaken, says Skeeter, really shaken. – Why am I the target of this sick prank? I don't need dead Death Eaters showing up on my doorstep. Please, whoever you are, please stop sending them to me. I promise I'll cover any stories of deceased Death Eaters without having any close up and personal contact with their dead bodies._

* * *

A group of students snickered as he led her by the hand out of the Great Hall, decorated with fluttering doves and pink, lurid hearts, but their laughter died down as he scowled fiercely at them. Heir dainty, nervous steps as she followed him down into the dungeons made him excited, harder than he had been for _years_ , he rather thought. _He had a good grasp on his own preferences and limits, and he wanted to take it slow with her – if possible. There was no guarantee that she would like it a bit rough, the way he preferred, but he was not about to scare her. Still, the throbbing in his cock didn't bode all that well for self-restraint. She was so beautiful, looking so innocent, so pretty, and the fire he knew her capable of made for a heady mix. Those silly, teenaged wizards and those dunderheaded male teachers had ogled his witch all night long, but now, Severus Snape was about to collect what he had wanted for so many months._

The corridors were quiet, all older students either at the ball and the younger in their Common Rooms. As usual, the castle was drafty and cold, making his black dress robes swirl around his feet as they walked in a brisk tempo into the dungeons. A few portraits along the way whispered as they saw him hand in hand with Hermione, their painted faces laughing and sniggering among themselves.

They entered his quarters in silence, and as soon the doors were locked and warded behind them, he claimed her mouth, pressing her to him.

 _Oh, so sweet, tasting of cherries as he licked her lips, prodding them open with his tongue, her tongue darting out to meet his, lips moving, tongues locking into a daring embrace, and his hands clutched a fistful of frizzy hair, pulling her head towards him, her hands holding onto his shoulders as if it was a question of life and death._

His cock stood to attention, pressing into her stomach, but this time he didn't care. _She had to know he wanted her, so badly, so much, and this time, he was not about to let her go._

His little witch gasped into his mouth, as his hands ran over her sides and hips, and he hooked his fingers underneath the hem of her dress, caressing the soft skin on her stomach, hands trailing upwards to her breasts, pushing her brassiere up. _Finally, he had that handful he'd been dreaming of, those pert nipples hardening under his thumbs._ Slowly, she started rubbing her lower body to his, and he groaned at the delicious friction.

Xxxx

Her breath hitched, and he Divested her of the rest of her clothes, spinning her around, pressing her back against his chest.

"Mmmm," he murmured against her throat, putting his arms around her waist, stroking upwards until he reached her chest. "Those tits have been in my dreams since you came back to Hogwarts." He palmed her breasts, gently rolling her hard nipples until he pinched them lightly. A gasp, almost a small scream, fell from her lips, and he chuckled against her neck, burrowing his face into her hair, before licking a trail along her collarbone. Her hands reached up to tangle in his hair, stroking, pulling slightly, and he hummed slightly in appraisal.

"Such a lovely handful," he groaned, pushing his erection against her arse, the fabric of his trousers grating on her soft skin. Gooseflesh erupted on her breasts, and she could feel his lips smiling against her skin. "Like that, do you witch? You're thrilled to have your old teacher feeling up your tits?"

 _Morgana, it was silly, really, but his words made her even wetter, though she was nervous as well_. _This was it, she was about to have sex with Severus Snape. There was no turning back now, and she wanted so badly to get a good experience, something to erase the memories of the painful couplings she had experienced earlier. It would be different with Severus. At least, her body was telling her it was happy with his attentions._

She rubbed her legs together, and he responded by snaking one hand to the apex of her thighs. Tickling her stomach and inner thighs, she whimpered again, saying: "Please, oh please..."

"Please what?" he said, moving his fingers in a slow circle around her mound, never touching her _there._

"Oh please, touch me!"

"Where, Hermione, where do you want me to touch you?" His voice was dark, molten chocolate in her ears, and she moaned again.

"Touch me…" she gasped, "please touch my pussy!" _Gods, I never use such words,_ she thought, but she couldn't find it in her to be embarrassed.

"With pleasure, darling," he laughed silkily, and finally his hands touched her slit. He spread her lips out, and dipped a finger into her opening, growling wordlessly in appreciation of her wetness.

"You're so slick for me, so wet," he panted in her ear, and she could only whisper a heated "yes" in return. He rubbed along her slit, finding her swollen nub, and circled it with his finger. His other hand came down her side, snaking in between her arse cheeks, finding her wet entrance, and he pushed one finger into her, curling it as he pulled it out again, raising his finger to his mouth.

"Mmm, you taste so good," he groaned, licking his finger with a slurping sound that only aroused her further, before he returned it to her quim. "You taste so sweet, and I will love to lick your cunt, but now…" he stopped himself, and pushed another finger inside her, making her squirm a little. "Is this filling you up, two fingers?" he said, voice amused, "then I'd better prepare you for what's coming your way soon." She shivered at the promise – or threat, she didn't quite know what to call it, and he continued to circle her clit with his thumb on one hand, while slowly pumping her pussy with two fingers. Her climax was building, and she pushed against his fingers, and he rubbed her clit harder and harder, before he inserted a third finger into her quim.

"Yes," she moaned brokenly, slamming herself down on his fingers, but the wave was cresting, and then a white light exploded in her belly, electric currents racing in her veins, and she was gasping, shaking and moaning, still rubbing herself against his fingers, her sex thrumming against his fingers, quivering in ecstasy.

Suddenly, it was all too much, she was too sensitive, and she tried to pull away from him.

He laughed, a laugh she could only describe as a little smug but also with a touch of wonder and surprise, like he couldn't quite believe what had happened, and he removed his fingers from her clit, though he slowly pumped those three fingers into her pussy. The aftershocks of her orgasm twitched through her, and he groaned.

"Are you ready," he whispered, his free hand fumbling with his trousers. Shocked, she only now realized that he was fully clothed, while she had been naked for quite some time.

"I think so, I must be," she whispered, and his belt buckle hit the stone floor with a clang, following a rustle from his pants. Something big and hot sprang free, slapping her arse, and she rubbed against it, hearing a rushed intake of breath from the tall, dark man behind her. He stepped out of his trousers, and pushed her forward until she was standing right in front of the cold stone wall.

"Brace yourself against the wall," he ordered, and in his voice, she could hear the cracks in his control. She put her hands to the wall, jutting her arse out against him, while she thought: _From behind, oh gods, how many times have I fantasised about this? Him behind me, and now it's becoming real?_ She felt both excited and scared, as a wave of fresh arousal rushed through her tired limbs.

One hand pressed against her shoulder blades, making her lower her back and raise her arse and hips, and she could feel him move in between her thighs, his cock protruding in front of him. He used one hand to guide his cock to her quim, coating it liberally in her juices, rubbing it along her slit, and then he positioned himself at her entrance.

"Merlin, Hermione, this won't take long," he panted, as he started to push his thick, bulbous head into her sheath. She squirmed against him, making a sound of protest, _it was much too big, really, stretching her out painfully,_ but he steadied her with a hand on her hip, the other grabbing her shoulder, and continued pushing into her.

"You're so tight," he almost choked, his breath coming raggedly, and then she almost wanted to scream in frustration. _Would she never learn to enjoy penetration? This hurt, just like it had with Ron!_ Tears pooled in her eyes at both the pain and her anger with herself – _there must be something wrong with her, after all_ – and with a grunt, he had finally thrust all of his considerable, thick shaft inside her. She could literally feel all the ridges and veins along his length, expanding her to what she felt was to the point of breaking, his shaft almost quivering in her pussy.

He stopped moving, but panted heavily into her ear. "Does it hurt?", he asked breathlessly.

"Yes," she whimpered morosely.

Keeping himself still, he put his arms around her, one hand moving towards her breasts, fondling her nipples, while the other found her nub again, rubbing gently against her still swollen slit, her pussy lips now almost obscenely parted by his thick length inside her.

Biting her lip against the pain – _she knew he would find his pleasure in taking her – she would just have to endure it, like with Ron –_ she tried to relax, not clenching all of her muscles in a futile attempt to expel his cock from her pussy.

"There, you just have to get used to my size, my sweet," he murmured into her ear, caressing her gently. "We'll go slow, and I swear, I'll make you enjoy this even if it's the last thing I do."

She laughed, choked and bitterly, wanting nothing more than to rid herself of the burning pain caused by his penetration.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, "and relax. Let me take care of this, let go."

And suddenly, he was there, slipping into her head too, and she saw herself, looking so flustered and aroused, as she wantonly rubbed her arse against him. She watched her spread legs, parting her labia, and his fingers rubbed her nub, and she felt a twinge of arousal. _Circe, had she ever felt anything like that before? No, sex had never been like that._ But what bowled her over, was seeing this from his side, in his memory. _The level of arousal in the memory, of fierce want, was all his._ The fact that she was the one who made him feel like that made her belly clench again, making her clit tremble under his nimble fingers. A surge of want made her even slicker, and slowly, the burning pain in her walls subsided.

"Yes, that's it," he grunted, still not moving inside her, and he rubbed her clit with renewed vigour. The double layer of the reality and the recent memory made her breath quicken, and she remembered – _her body remembered –_ how good his fingers had felt when he pumped her quim. Slowly, she moved herself along his length, pulling a little off, pushing herself onto him again, and he groaned torturously behind her. Something like a delicious friction started to get hold of her, and she panted slightly.

His hips thrust gently against her bum, and she whimpered, this time with pleasure.

"You're so tight," he whispered, "no wonder it hurt you."

"Feels good now," she gasped, and moved faster against him. His breath hitched, and he slipped out of her mind, and she was all here to enjoy what happened now. _Severus Snape is taking me, fucking me from behind, and I like it,_ she thought triumphantly and defiantly at herself. _His big cock is buried inside me, and it feels good! I love it, his cock thrusting into my pussy, oh, those ridges rubbing my walls…_

"Merlin, Hermione, I need you to brace yourself," his grunt interrupted her, "my control is slipping, I can hear your thoughts, and it's such a turn on! I'm going to come…"

She grinned a little, putting more strength into her arms, leaning against the cold stone wall, and his hands landed on her hips, grabbing her hold of her, as he started thrusting against her in earnest.

"Tell me if it hurts," he growled a command, and she nodded. _It didn't – it was good, and again, she found the heady thrill of being dominated, being at his mercy, and she wanted him to touch her clit again._

Giving off a shaky laugh, his hand fell down between her thighs again, rubbing her, as his thrusts turned more rough and hard. _Yes, she felt that familiar build-up again,_ and she moaned loudly. "Please fuck me harder, faster," she heard herself groan to her inner surprise, and he obliged, hips now slamming his cock into her.

"Your sweet, tight cunt, so good, I'm going to come _now_ ," he panted, and she could feel his cock swell up, harden even more, and then her orgasm took hold of her, and she screamed his name: "Severus!" Her walls twitched around his impossibly big cock, clenching and spasming, and she could barely breathe, gasping for breath.

"Aah, Hermione!" he roared back, pounding harshly into her, grunting, and she felt the hot spurts of his seed, as his cock jerked inside her. Both of them panted, and he pulled her against him, hands around her waist, and they stood still for a while, until his now limp cock slipped out of her. A rush of liquid came down, coating her thighs, and she laid her head back against his chest, looking up at him with a smile.

His face was, for a change, flushed, and his eyes were closed. _He looked blissful_ , she thought.

"Just so," he murmured, " _blissful."_

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Please, tell me what you think! It's not a long chapter, though I feel they deserved some ureserved lemons._

 _(I know, I've messed up with the Prophet at the beginning of the chapters. It happened because several of the last chapters are within the same day. I'll try to fix it to get back on track.)_


End file.
